


Vault 13

by vertibird



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 1, Fallout 2, Fallout 3, Fallout 4, Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: F/F, Gen, M/M, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-31 00:17:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 28
Words: 40,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8555281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vertibird/pseuds/vertibird
Summary: A collection of my shorter works and one shots.





	1. Linger In My Arms A Little Longer (F!Courier/Cass)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the gay enclave](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=the+gay+enclave).



> Most of these works are from the old Fallout Kink Meme and my [tumblr](http://enclaveoilrig.tumblr.com).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Tell me about the morning after the night before. "

Her ma once told her love gives you a reason to stand still and dig your heels into the ground. Yet with Six, they're always moving, trekking all over the Mojave that Cass keeps up just barely. It's probably a courier thing, she assumes -- liking to walk and see new places, never staying too long in one place. She can relate to that as a former caravaneer, but couriers don't stick to trade routes and big cities. She's met other couriers, most people involved in the caravan business do, but Six is just different. Shit, Six is just different period. She's not strange, exactly, not in the weirdo fiend type of way or someone who spent too much time under the Mojave sun. Six is unique, always a bit surprising, and a good shot.  
  
She's not blind to the build up, and she would have told her to hurry it up and just do it, but then Cass remembers how New Vegas' fate is riding on Six's back. That's a sort of complicated Cass doesn't want to be involved in. If she knew that woman who dragged her out of that one shithole of a bar would wind up being a major player in this power game over New Vegas and the Mojave, she would have brought much more alcohol with her.  
  
Then one night, that coy, beating around the bush thing Six has been doing dissipates. Six asks her if she's drunk, she says not yet, and she replies with a single 'good'. She tells Cass she 'killed a man to watch him die'. Cass jokes they've killed plenty of assholes and getting sentimental about this one it is a tad too late.  
  
She says it isn't sentimental and then she kisses her. She says if she's going to ruin this place, she's going to do a few more things before it all comes crashing down.  
  
Cass knows what desperation looks like, and even if Six isn't drinking away her desperation, she kisses and fucks it away and mumbles sweet nothings into Cass's flesh. People always find a way to cope, in the Mojave you gotta learn how to cope or you're going to end up dead. People aren't good coping mechanisms, people change too much and are unreliable. Love is probably even more of a dangerous way of coping.  
  
She can't say if it's love, and if it were to be love, like fuck would she admit it.  
  
Maybe she's using Six to cope with things she doesn't want to think of. It's risky, foolish, and something Cass would do because that's how things are. It must run in her blood; she blames her dad.  
  
The morning after, she wakes up in the penthouse bed instead of the presidential suite. She can't find her hat, which is more alarming than not being able to find her pants or Six. She still finds this Old World place creepy as fuck, like being dumped into someone's memory of what the world was like before the bombs fell. She's heard of the Old World Blues idiom, and this place encompasses it.  
  
She's going to find Six, but before she does, one of those securitrons comes up to her, holding a plate of what looks like breakfast. She almost screams at the thing, and she would have reached for a weapon if she had her pants on. The robot offers her the plate of food and 'insists' she eat it.  
  
Like she said, this place is damn creepy. Like a crypt of the Old World and it hasn't aged well.  
  
(but she's hungry, and so she takes the plate, and eats it in the bed.)

Six comes back when she's halfway done eating breakfast, of course wearing her hat and looking damned pleased with herself. “If you're trying to steal my look, it's not for you.” Cass says, still in bed as Six walks towards her.  
  
She tips Cass' hat, eventually taking it off and putting it over her heart. “I wouldn't dream of such a thing.” She sits down on the bed, joining her, putting the hat back on.  
  
“You know,” she picks at the food, but isn't eating. “I thought you'd be the type to at least stick around the morning after.” Not that Cass is upset by it, and it could have been awkward as she's not used to morning cuddling or morning breath kisses. “Not that I'm used to that sort of thing if the snoring doesn't wake me up first.”  
  
“I was thinking about it, and I was very tempted to stay a little longer.”  
  
“Yet you didn't.” It's not an accusation Cass makes, but more like an observation. “Courier stuff?”  
  
“Yeah, courier stuff.” Cass knows courier stuff is coded for 'troubling shit that no one wants to talk about before the afternoon'. Part of her doesn't want to know the specific details. “How's breakfast?”  
  
“Everything tastes better when you're not sitting on a rock and getting sand in your mouth. Whoever said Mojave dirt adds a special kick to food is lying to themselves.”  
  
“So good, then?”  
  
“I don't have room to exactly be picky, do I?”  
  
“A little wiggle room. Just be glad we solved the cannibalism problem on the Strip.” Six just has to remind her.  
  
“Don't remind me, dammit, I'm still supposed to be eating.” Cass glares at Six, seeing that still smug but amused look on her face. “And my hat, you took my hat.”  
  
“When did you turn into Boone? I'll give it back. Promise.”  
  
“Boone wouldn't have let you stick two fingers inside him as you called him your favorite cowgirl in the middle of fucking. Probably wouldn't even taken off his damned hat.” Six doesn't seem too affected by the crass comment, but instead, looks even more entertained.  
  
“Good thing I picked you. I like wearing this hat.” Six keeps a hand on the hat, holding it like she knows Cass is going to snatch it from her.  
  
“Give it back or I'll kick your ass.”  
  
“Give me a kiss instead.”  
  
“... what?” Cass doesn't expect to hear that, more like predicting to be taunted right back.  
  
“A kiss.”  
  
“When did you become a holotape lovey dovey romance cliché?”  
  
“I don't know, but this feels good, doing this together, doesn't it?" Six's sincere words cut through their teasing banter. "Everything is going to hell all over the place out there, but here, this is reliable. This is good.” Cass hasn't given it thought, being in bed, being intimate with Six like this. They're not a couple, at least... she hopes not, sort of, she wouldn't mind a repeat (can she think about that later and not now?).  
  
“Good,” Cass mutters to herself. “Yeah, it's good.” She can admit that much, knowing this whole fucking Strip is a powder keg and all these assholes have a lighter.  
  
Maybe by agreeing with Six, she's implying more than her first initial thoughts. Being with her, it's unexpected and a good thing. This moment is good, fun, a nice change of pace. Yet them together, doing this again, being attached at that hip and blah, blah, blah all that love stuff... she wonders how good it'll stay. She knows change is coming, and good and change only go hand in hand when one of the other hands gets blown off in sacrifice of change.

“So kiss me good, my favorite cowgirl?” The delivery is slightly flirtatious, but it's whispered and more sultry than confidently demanded. She can even hear that bit of desperation she heard in Six's voice like last night.  
  
“Cut that shit out before I yank your tongue out.” Harsh words, but the tone doesn't exactly match the message.  
  
“Preferably with your tongue.” She has to roll her eyes at that bad line.  
  
“If you think a good kiss involves yanking of tongues, you've got a lot to learn.”  
  
“Then I'm willing to learn. We got time. I wish we had more, but I think we have just enough.” It's an indicator Six even knows the future is unpredictable, that their time together could be cut short – death could be waiting for either of them, probably her, soon.  
  
“Learn quick. I might want a kiss from you that's actually decent after.” Cass kisses her, grabbing her hat back, and she can feel Six's lips curving up as they kiss.  
  
Maybe they'll have more time for a few more kisses and then some before the Mojave eats them alive and shits them out.


	2. To Each His Own (NSFW: Major Knight/M!Courier)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Waiting"

Most would say the NCR's presence here is a waiting game, but it feels especially like that at the Mojave Outpost. Knight doesn't mind it as much as some of the others who come here, especially compared to the newer recruits or the Rangers that clearly don't like this assignment. He's heard plenty of fellow soldiers say they're going to put in a request to change posts, but most never do.  
  
Yet he's still here, waiting. Waiting for a courier who's asked him to wait for him several times, and he's asked the courier to wait until his shift is over and most of the people in the outpost are at least half drunk.  
  
His 'Courier' (the title given by a few others who work in the office, not him), usually comes in, Mojave sand and raider and bandit blood covering his clothing and weapons. They go through the routine of this being a simple weapon repair and later deciding to spend downtime here to recuperate.  
  
Yet when the courier he's been waiting for shows up, the routine is broken.  
  
“Caravan, citizen, pilgrim-”  
  
“Can you get away for a few hours?” Six asks him, and instead of looking roughed up, Mojave worn, he looks ready for battle. His armor looks new, not smelling of grit and blood.  
  
“Is there a problem?” Maybe there's an issue with Primm, maybe even Nipton again.  
  
“A thousand, but hopefully getting you out of here for a few hours shouldn't be one.” Knight can pick up urgency in his voice, and his instincts go with him trusting Six rather than ignoring this; ignoring your instincts in the Mojave gets you killed.  
  
“I'll see if I can get someone to cover for me. I'm owed a few favors.” He's been doing a lot of shifts since Six hasn't been visiting as often and work is a nice thing to occupy his mind and time.  
  
“I'll wait.” Six confirms, looking like he's not going anywhere until Knight is leaving with him.  
  
Knight gets someone to cover for him, promising it'd be no more than three hours, but Ranger Jackson tells him to take the rest of the day off, citing how he's earned it. Six tells him they're going to Primm but not much else besides that. Knight tries to inquire more to understand what's going on, but he doesn't get much out of Six besides that 'he'll see' and an agreement that any day now an actual clash between the Legion and the NCR will break out. He has a suspecting feeling Six knows more than he's letting on; couriers are known for knowing what's really going on, but more questions lead to dead ends.  
  
Six takes him to some small shack with a few rooms. He knows it doesn't belong to Six, probably abandoned around the time NCR convicts came through here (or they were killed, still an indicator the NCR failed to do its job). He's going to ask Six again as to why they're here, but it becomes very clear when Six pushes him against the recently closed door and starts kissing him.  
  
They still kiss as they're pulling off each other's armor, removing their weapons. Those brief moments where their lips are separated is when Knight realizes how much he's missed this man, how waiting has been harder on him than he's let himself realize.  
  
Six undoes his belt and fly, and he's going to say they should probably freshen up just a little before, but Six prevents that, kissing him even harder, even more desperate.  
  
Six goes down on his knees, pumping the base of his cock and licking the head. They still make eye contact, and Knight thinks he's so damn erotic like this. He keeps his hands to his side, but when Six starts sucking him, putting more than just the head of Knight's cock in his mouth, he puts a hand of his on top of Six's head.  
  
He can feel himself getting harder in Six's mouth, and Six knowing this, moves just a little faster and takes in a little more.  
  
Knight now puts both hands on Six's head, his fingers slightly digging into his hair. Yet he's still gentle, restrained enough not to dig his nails in. It's a sign of affection, one would easily miss if it didn't contrast Six's style so apparently. Knight doesn't use his hands to move Six faster, but he still wants that intimacy and connection.  
  
By the time he's fully hard and starting to feel a tightness, Six sticks a hand into his opened pants, massaging his balls. His grip on Six tightens just briefly, exhaling the tension out. Six stops moving his mouth but continues to suck him off. Their eyes meet again, and he can tell he's being encouraged to come in his mouth.  
  
Knight comes in his mouth, and feeling Six keep sucking him as he does so is almost too much.  
  
Things are a bit of a blur for a good thirty seconds or so, but he sees Six free his mouth, wiping off a small amount of leftover semen mixed with spit with his hand.  
  
It's only a few minutes later he's returning the favor, so to speak. Six is sitting on some mattress with too many of its springs poking through. He feels Six's hands in his hair, rougher than he was, but not painful just more physical. He bobs Knights head down once in a while and is louder than he is. The way Six moans makes this all worth while, the things he says get him into it even more so. It's not exactly dirty talk, but once in a while Six says things that make it seem like there's a future for them, that these aren't just a bunch of hook ups.  
  
“Just us, just us.” Knight can barely make out the words when they're said, raspy and almost breathless.  
  
Six jerks his hips, getting close to coming, and he tells Knight so before coming into his mouth. As he comes, Six leans over, affectionately kissing the top of Knight's head. Six has never done that before, and it throws him off (in a good way).  
  
Not even ten minutes later, Knight looks like he's ready to head back to the outpost. Six is lying on the bed, pants halfway zipped up, and apparently still enjoying the afterglow of it all.  
  
“Do you have to go now?” It's a familiar routine for Knight, and Six asks fully knowing the answer.  
  
“Yes. Any day now the Legion is going to stage some sort of attack.” Formal, to the point – it makes the delivery easier.  
  
“I know. It's why I came to see you, in case I die or something.” Six is cryptic usually, much more careful, but this seems like an attempt to open up just enough without flat out telling him everything in one go.  
  
“You're going to fight alongside us?” Knight's heard reports of a courier helping out the NCR forces, and he knows it's Six, but fighting in battle is another thing.  
  
“With friends, a few others, that's not the point.” Knight hits a dead end with that topic, but another one arises. “After the fight, if the NCR wins, what will happen to you?”  
  
“A pay bonus, hopefully. Maybe a week or so of time off, but I doubt I'll be seeing California anytime soon.” Which he's accepted, even if he misses it.  
  
“If you're staying here long term, I got a place, a few.” Now he's not expecting that. “You like the Strip or somewhere quiet better? We could go between both; you've heard of Goodsprings, haven't you?”  
  
“Are you asking...?” Knight knew early on something seemed different, and if he's not reading too much into this.  
  
“We could stay together. No more of this waiting stuff or me trekking over to that one outpost.” Six laughs. “I'll make you a good breakfast if you wake me up early enough. Every morning. I just need you to do one thing for me, besides saying yes.”  
  
The idea of settling down with him doesn't sound so bad, and he knows his feelings go beyond just a physical connection. “What is it?”  
  
“Just wait for me one last time after whatever happens at the dam.” The smart choice would be for him to ask more questions, but instead, Knight just nods.  
  
“All right. I'll wait.” Knight doesn't say 'for you', but it's well implied.  
  
Knight kisses him before he leaves, closing the door behind him. They don't say goodbye or anything after.  
  
A month passes without a single word from Six. He's heard about how the man helped the NCR, all the promotion, and publicity. Yet he hasn't seen him in person, not even a letter. At least he's not dead, but Knight starts to wonder if their last conversation no longer applies.  
  
He's getting a new assignment on the Strip. It's a lot more desk work, and he didn't ask for the reassignment. Most people are jealous, but Knight is still the old fashioned sort of soldier who likes doing grunt work time to time.  
  
When he goes to his new office building on the Strip, the place is bustling, as busy as ever. It's prettier at night, and it's like there wasn't a major battle that took place not so far from here. This place is still used by people to forget how harsh the Mojave can be.  
  
The building is mostly empty, most people have taken off to enjoy themselves. Yet Knight just wants to get his things settled and moved in so he can start working tomorrow. He could do it in the morning, but it would be more tedious and he would have to juggle work and moving. If he does it now, he can get the feel of the place, the layout, before things get hectic.  
  
When he enters the room with his office, turning on a light, he sees his desk. There's a letter in an envelope on top of it specifically addressed to him. He opens it, thinking it's from Crocker, some details on his assignment and what to expect. Yet when he reads it, he knows it has nothing to do with work.  
  
“This is the last time I'll keep you waiting, I promise.” Knight turns around to see someone, Six, in the doorway. “Let's go home.” Six reaches his hand out, and it's the offering he's been waiting for, what he was promised.  
  
It's a good thing Knight has always been a patient man.


	3. Harbor Lights (F!Sole Survivor/Cait)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Anything with Cait"

Cait never cared about what the world was like before the bombs dropped. That was the past, and who cares about who started it or what was the reason. Knowing what the Old World was like wouldn’t get her fed, let her sleep easy, or give her security. All it’d probably do was give her another reason why mankind likes to repeatedly fuck itself over, something she’s known since she was a little girl.  
  
Cait hates nostalgia, but maybe she’s envious as she can’t look back at her past fondly, not like those pre-war ghouls. Her past is chained to her leg, ball and chain, skeleton arms reaching out and cursing her name. She pretends like she’s living in the moment, acting like part of herself isn’t stuck in the past, trapped there.  
  
She first thought Nora would hate the Commonwealth, bring up on how things used to be so much better before it all went to utter shit. All the pre-war ghouls she’s met and heard always talk about missing the past, how everything is worse now.  
  
But Nora doesn’t, and instead of looking out on the ruins of the landscape, pointing out how everything is destroyed, she smiles. She laughs, feet danging over a ledge, holding a lukewarm and flat bottle of nuka-cola.  
  
“Something funny?” She asks Nora, sitting next to her, wishing they were splitting something a bit harder to drink. “If you’re laughing, I want in on it too.”  
  
“I always wanted to go on a date here by the ocean, splitting a nuka-cola and splashing around in the water.” Cait notices how she looks like she’s so relaxed, so at ease. She hasn’t seen Nora like this very often, especially not when they first met.  
  
“Then go do it.” Nothing’s stopping them now, besides the irradiated sea water anyway. “We got enough Rad-X and Radaway so you won’t be puking your guts out. Just don’t expect me to be joining you.”  
  
“Mhmm…” Nora whines, leaning against Cait and whispering in her ear. “It wouldn’t be as fun, though.” Cait takes the nuka-cola bottle from Nora, taking a sip of it, realizing it’s even flatter and warmer than she initially assumed. “Come on. It’ll be fun, I promise.” That delivery is definitely flirtatious.  
  
“I’d enjoy the show more, you getting all wet and having fun.” She matches back, smirking as she takes another sip of the nuka-cola she doesn’t even like.  
  
“It’d be a better show up close and personal.” Nora’s lips brush up against her ear lobe. “Come on.” Nora whispers that one last line, pulling away to see Cait’s reaction.  
  
“Why didn’t you do this sort of thing before everything turned to a radiation shite-hole? It would’ve been  a hell of a lot more convenient.” Cait doesn’t expect her question to be a hard one, but Nora’s expression changes.  
  
“I should’ve.” She looks out to the water, no longer looking at Cait. “There were protests and demonstrations for years here. They tried to get more oil from one of the rigs out in the ocean, but it was a total flop. They raised taxes, promising for a payoff, but it never came – there was a lot of corruption, back door deals. People were upset, and the protests kept getting more violent.” Nora looks at Cait, her face still serious, but not so distracted as before. “Not exactly the best environment for a good time.”  
  
Cait’s so used to hearing how great the world was before the bombs fell was, but hearing that, that doesn’t sound like a perfect paradise. “There were always riots and protests somewhere, shortages of everything, reports predicting nuclear inhalation, local governments going bankrupt and collapsing, inflation and currency manipulation…” Nora laughs. “Here I’m trying to convince you to come join me in a little fun, and I’m ruining the moment by telling you about all of this. You didn’t do this on purpose, did you?” She knows Nora’s teasing, but what she’s just been told sticks to her.  
  
“So it wasn’t all sunshine, rainbows, and happiness back then?” In retrospect, Cait knows that’s not possible, but it sounds so different from what she barely knows about the Old World. It’s also her teasing Nora right back.    
  
“Hardly. If you had enough money and connections, especially government and military ones, you were fine. Many people didn’t, but I was lucky. I even knew someone who was so desperate and in debt he compromised all his morals and values and worked for Poseidon Energy.” Cait recalls the name, but it’s  just a thing that exists rather than something with a meaning.  
  
“All I ever hear about is how everything was better back then from those old ghouls. It’s good to know humanity was fucked up back then, too.” If it can’t do something for her now, what’s the point?  
  
“You find it reassuring?” Nora laughs at her again, a flirtatious undertone to it. “Are you secretly an optimist, Cait?”  
  
“I wouldn’t go that far, but humans are humans. I don’t think what happened over two hundred years ago would stop us from being human and keep on going.”  
  
“I do have to admit, I admire how people are much more resilient and innovative than I ever could imagine.” She knows Nora means well, but it comes off slightly condescending rather than a compliment.  
  
“What did you think would happen? That we’d just give up for some old fight no one gives a shit about anymore?” She comes off defensive, more than intended, as she sees Nora’s facial expression show the question made a strong impact.    
  
It catches her off guard. “That there was no future to be had, that we really ruined it all.” It's a vulnerable moment, something she hasn’t seen Nora put herself in. It’s the type of vulnerable you only show people you love and trust. “I think almost all of us were in denial about how bad things were, but we kept living. At least people these days are making progress. We were digging ourselves into a hole and pretending everything was going well: buy yourself a new car and pretend you can actually afford to fill up a whole tank and drive across country – buy a new television and ignore the news report about China and the nuclear threat.”  
  
“Nothing can stop humans, trust me. We’re too damn stubborn and foolish.” Cait elbows Nora, seeing this is a dark place for her.  
  
“Two things I’ve always been glad humans are, honestly.” That seems to do the trick, Nora smiling at her and not looking so down.  
  
“Come on, let’s go on that fantasy pier sea date thing you were talking about.” Cait slides down, not fond of how sand feels under her feet. “Just don’t come crying to me when the rads get you bad.” Cait offers her hand, Nora taking it as she slides down onto the beach.  
  
“More like vomit on you, but you’ll forgive me, I know you will.” She gives Cait a peck on the cheek, now in a much better mood.  
  
It might have taken two hundred years for Nora to get around to doing this, but it’s worth it.


	4. See You Later Alligator (Arcade/Deacon)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Because Mr "Lovers make poor confidants" and Mr "Trust no one" need to meet."

Goodneighbor reminds Arcade of Freeside a bit, just with more ghouls and just as many chem addicts. He doesn't often go to the Third Rail, but Magnolia's singing eases his thoughts of what he saw and heard earlier in the day. The Brotherhood of Steel's announcement to the Commonwealth is one of the last things he wanted to hear, especially with how they act in the Capital Wasteland and areas around it. He kind of missed the Brotherhood on the west coast, but only because it's easier to ignore a bunch of militant zealots wearing power armor when they're mostly cooped up in a bunker. He wonders what Veronica would think of this, but he doesn't want to go down that rabbit hole that'll get him thinking about others.  
  
He's seen Raven Rock, and maybe when he gets enough personal courage and a stealth boy, he'll visit Adams Airforce Base from a distance. The Brotherhood's base there makes him cautious, but it's on his bucket list, and he promised his favorite Enclave eyebot to visit it.  
  
He's seen a good amount of what's left or remaining historical landmarks in the Commonwealth, and they remind him of a small trace amount of Enclave propaganda. Most people here don't know who the Founding Fathers were or that throwing tea into the harbor was actually a thing (some don't even know what tea is).  
  
Arcade orders a drink because he knows Charlie is going to tell him to do so sooner or later. He swirls the alcohol in his glass, not drinking from it, but appreciating that it doesn't smell like rocket fuel but more like mutfruit and and razorgrain. It smells like the New World, not like the liquor Six or Cass would occasionally split with him (drunk off the alcohol or the Old World, it was hard to tell).  
  
Magnolia's last song for the hour finishes and Arcade told him self earlier that would mean him heading back. Yet he doesn't move, staying there like he's going to be spending another or two hours there. He knows if he heads back home, he's just going to read some pre-war books and stare at the ceiling for a few hours. He could open the clinic for a late shift, help out, but the residents here don't fully trust him yet – Hancock warned him about that.  
  
He's still considered new blood here, a newcomer, and he sticks out by standing taller than everyone, looking healthy and not on chems, and not being a ghoul. People don't ask him what a guy like him is doing here directly, but the subtle questions and top-down stares say it. Some assume he's just another bleeding heart with a savior complex kept large by guilt.  
  
He doesn't blend in here well, but there's a reason why he picked this place – a good place to hide, outcasts accepted. The residents here assume he's an outcast of some sort, but not much besides that. It's dangerous to mutter Enclave in some parts, especially around traders or those from the Capital Wasteland.  
  
A man sits next to him, and Arcade feels like he's seen him before, but he can't say for certain. Arcade hears his drink order and notices his glasses, but nothing much else.  
  
“So, big flying metal thing, did you see that?” Arcade hears the question but doesn't respond. Not that he means to be rude, but he doesn't think it's directed at him. He came here alone, he lives alone, he is primarily alone for the time being. “Come on, those glasses still work, don't they? If not, I know a guy who knows a guy who knows this lady-”  
  
“I did,” Arcade cuts him off. “And they do. Even if I couldn't see the blimp, I could hear their declaration and saying they mean this place no harm.” He scoffs. “The Brotherhood of Steel thinks itself as a merciful savior, doing what must be done. Different location and leader, but the same ideology that belittles the outsiders they proclaim to be keeping safe.” It's only q few moments Arcade realizes his bias against the Brotherhood is not only extremely apparent but most likely a conversation killer (or maybe the latter is a good thing).  
  
“Sounds like you have a history with them.” Arcade made that more than clear. “So, from the Capital Wasteland, huh?”  
  
“It sounds like you have a history with them, too.” He deflects because he wonders how obvious it would be if he were to lie. Cass always said he was a terrible liar, and he remembers the questioning looks and remarks Six used to give him when he said too much that a Followers researcher shouldn't easily know.  
  
“More like a present, probably a future. I don't think they're going anywhere anytime soon, huh?” He smiles at Arcade, looking like he's enjoying this conversation rather than being put off by Arcade's harsh conversation killing words. “You don't bring something like that and stay for the weekend.”  
  
Arcade isn't sure how much this person knows about the Brotherhood of Steel, but he seems determined to keep the conversation going. Maybe he should be careful about how determined he is, but he misses conversation and social interaction, no matter how he denies himself from it. He wants to enjoy a conversation in a bar that he knows will lead to nowhere.  
  
Or maybe not, if the reason the man is talking to him is more than something simple.  
  
“No, the Brotherhood doesn't do vacations, unless it's underground.” He lets himself just smile a little, a joke so he can show he wants to engage in social interaction rather than end it.  
  
“Shame. I could totally suggest a few places they might like, maybe the Glowing Sea? What a lovely sight to see.” He's starting to really enjoy this man's sense of humor and sarcasm, and maybe the smile he makes while he tells his jokes. Maybe he's weak to it because this joke reminds him of something a friend of his would have said (the wind blows a certain way, and the Mojave sands shifts to reveal an old friendship that is buried on the west coast).  
  
“The Brotherhood does have a history of things involving heavily irradiated area.” Some old Vault Dweller history lingers in the back of his mind for a few seconds. “They also have a history of violence and rigid dedication, saying their codex lets them do such things.” His voice changes there and Arcade looks back down at his drink. “It is more important that innocence be protected than it is that guilt be punished, for guilt and crimes are so frequent in this world that they cannot all be punished.” He rattles off that last line more to himself, knowing the person he's talking to would miss the reference.  
  
“The jaws of power are always open to devour.” Arcade knows that quote, and he finally takes the time to get a really good look at the person he's sitting next to. Apparently, he has misjudged greatly, and his throwaway recited quote he expected to keep buried is acknowledged by him.  
  
“John Adams,” Arcade's still in awe someone knows such quote. “My name is Arcade, by the way. We're either late at the whole exchanging names thing or we're breaking protocol by doing so.”  
  
“The clinic doc, right?” Arcade nods at the question. “Autumn, and before you ask, no, I wasn't born during that season; I think my mom just liked the way it sounded, like something pre-war.”  
  
“Yes, I run the clinic, Autumn.” Arcade can't tell if that's his real name or not, but it doesn't matter. “You can stop by anytime if you need anything.”  
  
“Do you say that to everyone or just to handsome men like me?” While Arcade's words weren't flirtatious,  these words clearly are. “I wouldn't mind being taken care of by a handsome doctor in this big bad Commonwealth with those scary men in big metal trash cans running around.” A line like that worked once before and led Arcade on quite the adventure; who knows where it will lead him this time.  
  
Ten minutes later, and it leads him to a room in the Third Rail where they're somewhat alone. They're kissing, but they could do more kissing if they talked less. Arcade is taller than him, he's always taller. They could take this back to his place, he wouldn't mind that. So far this Autumn guy seems like he could be good in bed, fun, even.  
  
He can't believe someone talks more than him during kissing, and he would kiss him to shut him up, but Arcade finds what he has to say quite interesting (more Founding Father quotes).  
  
They go to Arcade's clinic, and Autumn is laughing and teasing him, asking if he takes doctor and patient confidentiality seriously or not or does it even apply in this case. If it does apply, he promises to show Arcade some tricks he's picked up along the way. Where? Who knows, Arcade doesn't ask, but he's curious to see what this trick even is and why confidentiality is an issue.  
  
Either way, it's fun for the night and an awkward goodbye the next morning. That's if Arcade never sees him again and he doesn't come to the clinic. If he does, then it's probably some bad jokes involving getting special medicine and treatment if there's a repeat follow up. Depending on how things go tonight, Arcade's reaction to said joke will change.  
  
This is clearly a bad idea, and he should have taken all the lessons the Mojave forced upon him to heart instead of thinking he could possibly be above them.  
  
Or maybe it's the Mojave reminding him there's still Mojave in Arcade even if he's no longer there.  
  
The next morning, Arcade fumbles for his glasses before he checks to see if someone is sleeping beside him. As expected, the bed is empty. He puts on some clothing and his old Follower's coat, leaving his bedroom.  
  
He half expects Autumn to be gone, slipping out in the middle of the night. Yet he's still there, and Arcade can smell a lit cigarette.  
  
“Oh sorry,” he says, putting out his cigarette, turning to look at Arcade. “Forgot this is a clinic, too.”  
  
Arcade just nods, and the awkward morning routine is in full force. “Did you want anything to drink? I might have something horribly irradiated to eat, too.”  
  
“Sure, to both.” He replies back looking rather fascinated with the clinic.  
  
They share breakfast and a few more words, but nowhere near as many jokes as the night before. Autumn says he has to go, but he's not going to forget Arcade's offer of a clinic visit. Arcade doesn't mind him leaving, as he knows people will start coming in soon or they're already waiting outside.  
  
It's only until he's about to close up later that night, extremely exhausted and about to crash into bed he notices his power armor helmet is out on his desk. He doesn't remember leaving it out like that, and suddenly his stomach is in knots.  
  
He doesn't see 'Autumn' after that, and he's mostly fine with that. He worried that 'Autumn' is a spy meant to pick of Enclave escapees, something the NCR and Brotherhood of Steel did back the day. He's not dead yet, so maybe his worries are just him letting his imagination go a bit wild.  Arcade doesn't hope too much or expect him to show up (but he does hope just enough to reflect on it). So far the Brotherhood of Steel hasn't caused to much trouble here, and that's what he should be focusing on rather than some one night stand who could cite John Adams. Yet he knows better, and he can sense something big is coming – it feels like New Vegas before the battle at Hoover Dam.  
  
He patches up someone wearing a vault suit; someone put a good word about him being a good doctor. Arcade finds out this is the person Hancock went off with, and he can see why Hancock would take off like that now.  
  
Arcade doesn't realize he's out of Med-X until he needs it, so he closes the clinic briefly to go on a supply run with the money he has. As he walks to Daisy's (the other Daisy), he sees his former patient and someone who looks familiar.  
  
“Hey, Doc, thanks for the help.” He looks familiar but doesn't at the same time. This must have been someone he patched up since they sound like they know him. “This one gets into plenty of trouble, but the good kind of trouble, the trouble we start.”  
  
“A friend of yours, Deacon?” His most recent patient says to this 'Deacon'.  
  
“We bonded over John Adams, so I guess that counts as something.” Deacon shrugs, grinning like he did that night he met Arcade. “We should totally get a drink and quote a bunch of old dead people again.”


	5. Walking After Midnight (F!LW/Sarah Lyons)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Sarah Lyons/LW, LW leaves"

She knows she's overstayed her welcome in the Brotherhood's presence, especially since Elder Lyons' health is deteriorating. Memories of the 'the kid from vault 101' no longer are on the forefront, reminding the Brotherhood and the rest of the Capital Wasteland who helped bring purified water to all. They don't remember how she was the one that led them to victory against the Enclave.  
  
Instead she's a reminder of them of Lyon's leniency of outsiders, how someone who isn't truly a member of the Brotherhood of Steel has so much strength and support. Some say she is blasphemy against the codex, even if Sarah tells her it isn't so. She knows she's not safe among them, but she hasn't felt truly safe since she left the vault all those years ago. She's causing a larger rift in the Brotherhood than ever expected, one Lyons no longer can quell as he grows weaker. She knows if she stays, the Brotherhood will never be a united force in the Capital Wasteland.  
  
The Brotherhood might not kill her, but they're stripping away her father's and mother's legacy. She wishes everyone knew her parents names and why they gave their lives to help people. Instead most people of the Capital Wasteland simply know to get the 'good' water from the 'scary people in the metal armor'. She could be more bitter about how things turned out, but she knows in the end her parents wouldn't want that. People's lives are better now with the successful launch of Project Purity.  
  
So she's leaving early tomorrow undercover, pretending to be a mercenary to escort some supplies. It's out to a place known as Chicago, and from what she's been told by Lyons' closest allies, the branch of the Brotherhood will offer her safe haven for the time being if she wishes to join the . Yet that would be fully committing to the Brotherhood, something she has mixed feelings about.  
  
She watches Sarah leave the room, most likely coming from a meeting about peace talks with the rebels. She can tell it's a meeting about them because Sarah has this guilty heartbroken look, one that shows she's taking the rebels not rejoining as a personal failure. Maybe it's not the best time to say goodbye, but she's put it off for too long.  
  
About ten minutes or so later, she knocks on the door to Sarah's quarters. She could just walk in, not being a stranger to her, but this mood requires formality rather than a familiarity.  
  
When Sarah opens the door, she smiles at her. Sarah smiles back, looking at her like she's the only thing good in this Wasteland. That look Sarah gives her still makes her heart skip a beat, a reminder how much she's truly in love with her.  
  
"I know we were supposed to have dinner together and talk to my father ." Sarah never liked it when plans didn't work out accordingly, but to her, her entire life has been initial plans failing only to be rewritten. "They're trying to mold me into the Elder figure and reach out to our Western brethren about the line of succession. I was never good at the bureaucratic side of the Brotherhood. I want to get things done, just not talk about them."  
  
"They believe in you," she walks past Sarah, walking around the room rather than taking a seat. "They have to. They know how fragile things are, everybody does." She wants to reassure Sarah, but she knows words are temporary and fleeting things in this case. "I believe in you, but my word only goes so far."  
  
"It goes further than you think." Sarah pushes up against her, embracing her with a kiss. She feels Sarah hold her, her arms wrapping around her like she knows she's going to leave here. She kisses Sarah back, her right arm on Sarah's waist.  
  
"I should appreciate the steadfast allies besides me more, have them know how important they are to me." Sarah looks into her eyes with that strength and determination that is awe inspiring even now.  
  
"Am I just a steadfast ally? That's all?" She teases, giving Sarah a quick peck on the lips to point out it's very much a joke.  
  
"You know what you are to me," she can fill in the unsaid words. "If you want me to say it outright, I love you and care for you."  
  
Sarah has always been forthcoming and honest with her, but her hearing that Sarah loves and cares for her, they aren't common. Sarah rather show it, and she does, but hearing those words… she can feel a blush on her cheeks. She feels embarrassed something like this can fluster her after everything, after she's become a hardened warrior of the wastes, but it shows she has a heart and her feelings towards Sarah are powerful.  
  
"I love you, too." She rests her forehead against Sarah's, who happens to be just a little taller than her. "I didn't know I needed to hear that, but I did." Sarah, her father, and the companions she's picked up along the way are her family now. If it weren't for them, especially Sarah, she would be a much lonelier person. She's not sure what she would be like; she'd find a way to survive, but who knows.  
  
"It wasn't just for you," She feels so close to Sarah, wrapping her arms around her now. "I wanted to make sure you knew, to make sure to eliminate any doubt." Sarah's decorative armor isn't as bulky as power armor, but still slightly awkward to wrap around. "I know about your plans, about you leaving the Capital Wasteland." She tenses, freezes in their shared embrace. "Father told me, calmed me down when I was blinded by confusion and anger."  
  
"Are you mad now?" She hopes Sarah isn't mad at her, but she would deal with that if she has to.  
  
"Mad at the circumstances, not at you." That's good to hear, but things are never that simple. "A good leader knows their limitations and aspires to do better. I know you're a divisive figure, and having your support would only cause our brothers who have turned away to turn away further. I'm not a strong leader just yet, and I do not have the loyalty to just command them to rejoin; my father couldn't, and I am for now in his shadow until I craft out my own image."  
  
"It'll be temporary." She insists because she wants it to be true. She wants to be reunited with Sarah, to support her and be with her forever when the time is right.  
  
"I know. Patience isn't one of my gifts, and I might slip up by rushing things, wanting you back but-" She can hear panic, desperation in Sarah's voice.  
  
"I'll wait as long as it takes, until I die." She says confidently, giving a smile to Sarah. "I'm not losing you, I'm not letting you go. I believe in you enough that I know one day we'll be able to be together again." She could choke on those words, but she keeps her voice steady as Sarah needs that reassurance. They've already discussed about the Brotherhood's place and what it means in the context of their relationship and who they are. She can't demand the Brotherhood take a step back because separating Sarah from the Brotherhood would be too cruel; Sarah wouldn't be who she is without them.  
  
"I rather it not take a long time, I want to fix everything right away, make things better." She wishes Sarah could do that right away, right now, even.  
  
"I'd like that, but, you know, the politics of it all." She laughs just once, trying to ease how tense things are. Sarah doesn't laugh, even smile, but she can tell the comment helps.  
  
"I'll be putting up with politics and a lot of talking for the Brotherhood's future and you."  
  
"I know, and I'll find a way to make it up to you one frustrating argument at a time." She kisses Sarah, and words can only do little now.  
  
Actions matter, and she takes off Sarah's armor and clothing one at a time. Sarah isn't as patient, but she's not wearing as many layers. Maybe she's taking things slowly because it's what she thinks how savoring the moment is supposed to be; if things go slowly between her and Sarah, will she remember every detail of this moment for years to come? In five years, will she remember how Sarah's lips feel against hers? How that one spot on Sarah's inner thigh is her favorite place to kiss? She doesn't want to forget.  
  
Sarah stops her briefly before they get too in the moment. "Before you leave," The words break her heart, but Sarah still looks so strong on the outside. "Say goodbye."  
  
"Of course." It's harder to say goodbye, but she'll do it for Sarah.  
  
They go back to kissing, a hand on one of Sarah's breasts and the other moving past Sarah's navel. Every touch, every moment, every kiss is her saying goodbye to Sarah.  
  
It would be easier if Sarah were asleep, but both of them are awake. Sarah is putting her hair back up; she has a weakness for seeing Sarah's hair down, but she doesn't tell Sarah to keep it down. Sarah is far more dressed than she is, and she's the one that's supposed to be leaving in no more than a few hours.  
  
"Make sure your armor and weapons are fully repaired. If not, take anything of mine." It sounds like Sarah is just giving her route instruction for a recon mission. Maybe it's her way of handling the situation better, to approach it that way. "Once you know it's safe, we can establish contact. That chapter of the Brotherhood doesn't speak to us often but they have working communications that should be stable."  
  
"You know where I'm heading out to?" So Sarah has known about her plans, which makes this easier in some ways, but awkward in others.  
  
"Yes. Father still has contacts in the Midwest who are loyal and more understanding of our circumstances." It feels like there's a but there. "Yet if anything seems suspicious, go with your gut and don't hesitate to leave them." She doesn't expect for Sarah to say that. "They're known for some… unorthodox accomplishments." Sarah is careful with her word choice, something that is very noticeable.  
  
"Survival first. I learned that day one outside the vault." Not a lesson she wanted to learn, but had to. "I'll heed your warning." It's easy reassurance, something she can do to make things just a little less harder for the both of them.  
  
"Want to help me put my armor on?" She could do it herself, but it's another thing they can do together.  
  
"All right." Sarah looks over at the armor, more than double checking if it's ready. "Are you sure you don't want a suit of power armor?"  
  
"I'll stick out too much, and no mercenary and hired guard wears armor like that."  
  
"Right." Sarah's response shows her mind isn't as focused and on point as it usually is. "It will slow you down, too."  
  
Sarah helps her put on some basic metal armor, nothing extraordinary. Normally it'd take no more than ten minutes, but they both know this will most likely be the last interaction they have in a while.  
  
When she's done putting on her armor, she takes Sarah's right hand, holding it. "Goodbye, Sarah."  
  
"Goodbye, Vault Kid." Sarah's never called her that, but she knows why Sarah called her that. It's to help her remember her roots, who she is beyond the fictionalized ideas of her. She might not be a kid anymore, but tucked away underneath it all is still that nineteen year old young woman who made herself thrive in the Capital Wasteland.  
  
Sarah smiles at her, a kiss on the cheek. She lets go of Sarah's hand and leaves the room.  
  
It feels like leaving the vault all over again.  
  
It takes her four months to reach Chicago, but only a week to find the Brotherhood chapter that operates there. Sarah wasn't kidding about them being unorthodox. Not that she would joke about it, but Sarah either put it very lightly or really doesn't know what they're up to. Either way, they accept her, offering her safe harbor for now. Apparently she reminds them of someone known as the 'Warrior', a person who was a tribal (a new slang word not found in the Capital Wasteland) and the most highly regarded member of the Brotherhood; no one has compared to them in almost a hundred years.  
  
She's able to send a few messages to Sarah, but she never hears a reply back. She just hopes things are fine, and she's busy working with the scribes. She wants to be optimistic that one day that the elder will have good news for her, tell her Sarah has reunited the Brotherhood once again and she can come back home. The elder and the higher ups are guarded around her, but they knows she's the best source they have on intelligence on the Capital Wasteland and the super mutants there.  
  
Years pass a bit more easily when she's occupied, and she's gotten into the habit of sending a letter or a transmission to Sarah at least once a month. She might not get responses, but it's a comfort.  
  
One day when she's heading to meet some scribes, she notices no one is doing their usual duties. Instead, everyone isn't doing anything (which clearly means something is wrong). She hears hushed whispers about some voting, about some boy being too young or the youngest elder ever.  
  
That's the day she learns the Brotherhood chapters have talked to each other, and the Capital Wasteland has a new elder. Arthur Maxson, a direct descendant of Roger Maxson is barely sixteen when he's made elder. Apparently the Brotherhood stands fully united behind him, and if she wants, she can go back home, promised safe passage.  
  
When the question of Sarah comes up, what happened to her, she knows the answer before they tell her.  
  
Dead.  
  
She died not long after she reached Chicago, but they only found out recently themselves.  
  
So she's told.  
  
She wonders if it's all a set up, that the Brotherhood split them apart on purpose so they could regroup. It's easy to believe in these conspiracies because she knows what they're like. She and Sarah stood in the way of the rebels gaining more power and loyalty. After all, why would this chapter of the Brotherhood promise her so much? Lyons' power and influence was weakened heavily everywhere and everyone knew it.  
  
Or maybe it's just as simple as the Capital Wasteland showing her and Sarah no mercy. That place is her home, but it has been so cruel to her. Yet it has given her people she's cared about, loved, but then it takes it all away. Always.  
  
It's the only home she knows, and so she finds herself drawn back there, staring at the Jefferson memorial.


	6. Tumbling Tumbleweeds (M!Courier/Arcade)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Sierra Madre Nightmares, Comfort/Angst"

Arcade still remembers that morning before Six vanished for a week. He told Arcade he found some old bunker that had ties to Veronica’s old mentor (the former elder of the Mojave’s Brotherhood chapter more precisely). That it would be a quick trip and he would be back in time to take Arcade out for dinner and a few drinks (“Are you sure they aren’t anymore cannibals at the Lux?”). Six talked him into giving a goodbye kiss for ‘good luck’, but it ended up having them back in bed, making love, laughing and teasing each other. He fell asleep after that, and when he woke up, Six was gone. He isn't the best with saying goodbye himself, but he wishes Six said goodbye. He is too in love and caught up in this new intense rendezvous of a relationship for his own good.  
  
Arcade knows something is wrong when it is far too late. Veronica and Six aren't back yet, but maybe the two of them got dragged into doing something. He thinks the two of them had to run more errands, something small, and they ended up spending the night instead of heading back the the Strip. Arcade doesn't mind too much, and it is a good excuse to get the upper hand on his boyfriend.  
  
Veronica comes back two days later, and she tells him Six was abducted in the middle of the night by some super mutant or nightkin. She blames herself, and Arcade should have refuted her statements, but he couldn’t, not yet.  
  
It takes five days for Six to return, but something happened in those five days.  
  
Six looks older now, he sleeps far less, and he’s picked up quite a few new ‘habits’. Arcade’s studies never focused heavily on psychology or psychiatry, but he knows enough. The Followers have dealt with plenty of trauma patients, those who are suffering through PTSD. Six is self medicating, drinking a bit more and using more than the occasional chem. He’s noticed they go through Med-X a lot more quickly now.  
  
Six hates Old World radio and speakers now. If they’re slightly broken, he’ll shoot them without even hesitating. He either cashed all his chip earnings into cash or gave them away (mostly to Cass and Raul). They go into some old robot plant, and when Six hears beeping, he runs out of the building like he’s on fire.  
  
He wants to ask what happened, again, but he doesn’t know if Six is ready. Arcade has asked twice already, but Six never reveals much. Six does tell Veronica about her old mentor, how he’s dead now. How he died, Six doesn’t tell her, but she doesn’t push him for details.  
  
One time they cuddle together, but of course cuddling only lasts so long. Arcade kisses his lips, the side of his mouth, his jaw, his neck-  
  
And Six tenses, freezes up, and walks out on him. Of course he’s angry, confused, and frustrated by it at first. Then he realizes Six has been strange about his neck area, not wanting it covered. Arcade can respect those boundaries, but he’d like at least to know where the lines in the sand are drawn. Right now he’s fumbling, trying to learn an entirely new set of rules and limitations Six didn’t have previously.  
  
When Six comes back in the room, head lowered, eyes looking away, Arcade makes a demand for him to see a Followers doctor who specializes in trauma. Arcade says he understands it’s not easy to talk about whatever happened to him, and he’s not offended. It pains him, he concedes, but that’s because he wishes he could help. He’s a realist, he knows about medicine, and he knows he can’t play doctor for Six in this manner. This sort of thing isn’t the kind of bandage and healing stuff he’s used to doing with him.  
  
Six agrees, hesitantly kissing Arcade as he mumbles an apology. Arcade says he doesn’t need to apologize if he’s actually going to try and get better and get help.  
  
They make love that night, this time he’s penetrating Six. For a while he’s been on the receiving end and their love making has been a bit stale, a bit mechanical. This time feels more like how things used to be, and Arcade is glad to see that old remnant.  
  
They sleep, and for once, Six falls asleep before him. Arcade is relieved, and he hopes tonight is the beginning of things getting better.

\--

Six has a nightmare. He rolls out of bed, screaming something about a gala. Six pounds the floor with his fists, asking someone named Dog to check the body. Arcade doesn’t touch him, but he does say his name.  
  
Six stops pounding the floor, becoming quiet. He tells Arcade, “Finding it, though, that's not the hard part. It's letting go.” Six gets up, leaves their room, and doesn’t return.  
  
He visits Doctor Usanagi, hoping Six has seen her. She does the good doctor thing about confidentially, but Arcade does get her to bend the rules a little. She admits to seeing Six, which is a huge relief, but their progress is very slow.  
  
Three days later Six returns, smelling of alcohol and old blood. Even so, when Six rushes him, holds him tightly, he doesn’t mind the smell. He’s glad Six is back, and he’ll save a lecture for later.  
  
The next few days, it’s talk of the Strip that apparently someone killed the top members of the Fiends' hierarchy by some ‘crazed’ mad man. Apparently he cut their heads off, taking their heads as proof for the NCR bounty. He has a feeling it’s Six, but he doesn’t bring it up.

\--  
  
Six is drunk when he asks him what’s the difference between love and obsession. Arcade isn’t sure how to respond as it’s a question with too much grey area to give a simple response to. He jokes, trying to deflect the question. Yet Six asks again, half incoherently rambling about a man named Sinclair. From what Arcade can piece together, Sinclair loved a woman named Vera Keys to the point of obsession. Sinclair trapped her omewhere, wanting to protect her, but her hurt her.  
  
“Let go,” Six mutters. “If I hurt you, tell me to let go.” Arcade doesn’t let go, but instead drags him back to the bed they share.  
  
\--  
  
They’re picking up some scrap with Raul when Arcade trips over some radio, music beginning to play. Six takes out his gun, aiming at it the radio, but he doesn’t shoot it. The song playing has an effect on him. The radio eventually stops working only ten or so seconds later. He lowers his gun, looking like he’s seen a ghost.  
  
“Dean Domino, he’s...” Six’s voice trails off.  
  
“You know him, Boss?” Raul asks, curious about where he’s going with this.  
  
“Yeah. He complained about his knees just like you.” Raul laughs, and Arcade sees Six smile just briefly.  
  
\--  
  
Six feels like it’s time for revenge, but Arcade doesn’t go with him. He goes with Boone and ED-E. He wants to go, but maybe it’s for the best he doesn’t. They don’t return for almost a week, but he does hear something about Benny going missing and Caesar being killed in his own stronghold a few days later.  
  
When Boone and Six return, he tells Arcade, “I got my revenge.”  
  
“And then some. I heard about Caesar.”  
  
“For Boone and Nipton.” He replies. “I need you to keep something safe." He forces something into Arcade’s hand. “Don’t give it to anyone but me.” Arcade opens the hand seeing a single platinum chip. He reminds himself Six doesn’t like chips, he’s not sure why, but it’s something to do with the Sierra Madre.  
  
\--  
  
Six tells him he’s going to be doing some private contracting work that’s located in the Zion Valley. Arcade knows roughly about the area, how it’s east of the Colorado, Legion and tribal land. He tells Arcade he’ll be gone for two months or so and to watch over ED-E (Arcade overhears him telling Boone to watch over Rex). Arcade wants to protest, ask why the hell would Six take off when all the factions around New Vegas are about to burst. Six doesn’t need the money, he knows that, but when he thinks about it... maybe Six just needs the time away.  
  
Arcade sends him off with a kiss on the forehead and medical supplies.  
  
Six does return, looking a bit more rugged, but more relaxed. He even gets Arcade a souvenir, telling him about all the people he met. Apparently the highlight of the trip is when Six took some sort of psychedelic plant mixture created by a tribal shaman and then proceeded to kill a large bear created from fire.  
  
This reminds him of the Six he first met.

\--

He travels with Six, Cass, and ED-E near Nipton, hearing reports of some ‘large metal thing’ crashing from the sky. They end up finding what Arcade knows as a pre-war tech object known as a satellite. Six asks him how he knows this, highly suspicious, but Arcade manages to shake enough suspicion off by claiming he’s read about them.  
  
They camp near the object for the night, hoping to find a way to haul it back to the Strip in the morning. He shares some mattress and covers they pulled out of a Nipton house. The ruins of the place still haunt Six, he can tell, and even if Nipton has been scavenged, it still smells of dead burnt corpses. He knows Six is going to pretend to sleep tonight, and if he does manage to somehow fall asleep, nightmares will plague him.  
  
Arcade wakes up in the middle of the night, seeing and feeling Six isn’t next to him. He gets up, putting his glasses as he goes to see where he went off to. It doesn’t take long, as he sees some weird light is coming out of the satellite, projecting an image onto the large screen. Six is standing near it, ED-E hovering close by.  
  
Six must have heard him, as he turns his head to look at him. Then all of the sudden, there’s a bright light, blindingly powerful. When Arcade is able to see again, Six is gone and ED-E is beeping at an accelerated rate.  
  
For almost two weeks, Arcade blames himself. They shouldn’t have camped so close to pre-war tech, especially something so active. Six just vanished without a trace, kidnapped, again. It’s amazing he came back last time, and he doesn’t know if the man has enough luck left to come back again.  
  
On one particular night, he just can’t seem to sleep. Arcade wonders if he knew what being in a relationship with Six was going to be like, would he still have kissed him and gave it a try? Back then he thought it would be some lighthearted fun, a little fling with a courier passing through the Mojave. He isn't supposed to fall in love and turn into some worry wart husband this early on in their relationship if ever.  
  
Drinking all alone in some Old World, pre-war bar is eerie to him. Yet it has good alcohol, and it’s not like House is going to drink it. He’s not drunk, as he just wants enough to drink enough to feel sleepy.  
  
He swears he hears something akin to ED-E’s victory beep, but he could be hearing things. He pours himself another glass, drinking it slowly. He sets the glass down, and that’s when he feels someone grab onto him from the back.  
  
“I’ve missed you,” and he knows that voice is Six’s even if it’s a murmur. Arcade feels his lips against his neck, placing a kiss.  
  
It’s like a ghost has come back, and he wants to just say this is all too much, but he doesn’t. They’ll discuss things in the morning, probably when clothing isn’t being removed and they’re both not struggling to get somewhere much more private.  
  
Arcade notices new scars as clothing is being removed, his fingers running over them. He asks why and how, but all he gets in return are kisses and partial answers that are vague. In the morning he tells himself he can’t let all these unanswered questions rot and linger in the back of his mind. He’s never seen this type of armor before, and it looks like pre-war tech.  
  
Arcade wakes up from a brief accidental nap after sex. He forgets he’s not in the presidential suite but instead the penthouse. He scrambles to find his glasses, hands moving until he realizes someone else put them on the nightstand next to him. He looks around for some clothing, but only can find underwear rather than anything substantial.  
  
He walks around the dark penthouse, only the Strip’s lights illuminating it. He walks until he sees Six talking to a large computer screen with the face of that one modified securitron. He overhears something about alliances for New Vegas, Six pledging to get support from whoever he can to help establish an independent New Vegas.  
  
“I don’t trust them,” Six says to the large monitor, but then he turns, looking at Arcade as if he knew he was there the entire time. “This is my home, and I will protect it.”  
  
Arcade assumes he means New Vegas, but little does he know what Six really means (home is _him_ ).

\--

Going to the Brotherhood bunker is something Arcade doesn’t enjoy. It’s literally walking into a viper pit blindfolded for him. At least with the NCR, they’ve shifted to hunting down the Legion rather than actively pursuing an enemy way past their prime. Still, he can’t exactly say he’s uncomfortable since he hasn’t told Six of his old ties to the Enclave.  
  
Six asks him and Veronica to take a sniper rifle to where it can be repaired in the bunker. He’s not an expert at guns, but he can tell the gun is Brotherhood tech and not a normal sniper rifle. If Boone were here, he’d probably be able to extrapolate further. They are slightly delayed by Veronica chatting a few people up, Arcade trying to pretend to be invisible as she does so.  
  
They wait for him in the room, Veronica tinkering with some parts and old tech as she talks to a young scribe. His eyes look around the room, knowing this bunker looks like the hidden bunkers the Enclave had scattered around the west coast back in the day.  
  
They leave, alliance secured, and Six is one step closer to securing a future for New Vegas.  
  
\--  
  
“They removed my heart, brain, and spine.” Six whispers to Arcade in bed, neither of them being able to sleep. “I asked for my brain back first, decided on taking my heart back for you.”  
  
“I still don’t know how it’s possible, but if you say this ‘Big Empty’ place has a lot of old pre-war tech, who knows what’s possible.” He’s still amazed something like that could survive all this time.  
  
“I’ll take you there, I think you’d like it.”  
  
“Past the test subjects, atrocities, dangerous pre-war tech, giant robot scorpions, and-”  
  
“Nothing’s perfect.”  
  
“I know, but you could take me somewhere a bit more romantic. Free of things that want to kill us all the time.” Arcade kisses him, he kisses back, and that’s when Arcade hears him mumble that he loves him.  
  
\--  
  
Six tells him he has to chase after a man, another courier. He tells Arcade that he’s always chasing after him, from the Sierra Madre, to Zion Valley, to the Big Empty, and now to the Divide, but he didn't know it at the time.  
  
Arcade is upset, thinking it’s reckless. Six barely foiled an assassination attempt of the NCR’s president by the Legion. Why does he have to go through some personal crisis at this very moment? Arcade asks if he’s been to see Doctor Usanagi lately, and Six says no. He tells Arcade he doesn’t want people poking in his head, too many have lately (even if his brain is quote, “a dick” end quote.).  
  
“Tell me what happened at the Sierra Madre.” He demands after all this time. “Tell me because going there changed you, and I’m worried all this searching for some other courier isn’t going to be what really helps you.” It’s hard to say the truth, harder for Six to accept the demand it seems.  
  
“Bad things. Bomb slave collars, people too obsessed and not being able to let go and move on, loving and wanting something until it kills you or turns you into a shell.” He can’t follow him completely, but the words are full of pain. “I clawed my way, injected more chems in my body than a fiend does in a month, and barely got out of there.”  
  
Arcade is speechless and  wants to be comforting, he wishes he could do that but he has no idea why. As a doctor, he knows this is why he refrained from asking Six the question, tackling the half answers head on. The truth is Arcade would probably never get an answer that would make things fine again.  
  
“At first I thought I was different, then I realized, half the time I kept thinking about the fact if I died I couldn’t get my revenge. I was like them, and I couldn’t let go. No different.”  
  
“You are different.” Arcade says because it’s an easy thing to say.  
  
“Am I? I couldn’t let go, and now look at what wanting to kill a single man has done.” He could reassure Six that he’s done good things because of it, but he knows that’s a derailing point. “I thought of you, too. Maybe it made me different enough that the place didn’t consume me entirely.”  
  
“Just come back from the Divide in one piece.” Six gives him a peck on the lips, wrapping an arm around his waist.  
  
Arcade lets go, and he hopes they can begin again one day.


	7. If I Didn't Care (Glory/G5-19)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It's obvious from Glory's dialogue during Emergent Behavior that G5 was somebody special to her"

They are all huddled together in darkness, bent legs pressed against their chests. Another synth is next to her, and she only gets a glimpse of her face when a door opens. It's a man's voice that tells them to run as fast as they can, to follow the trail of lanterns.  
  
“A new start.” Normally half muttered words would be ignored by her, but she's in a state of hyper awareness, where her senses and programming are in survival mode.  
  
She looks at the synth who said those words, their eyes meeting. “It's do or die.” She doesn't give her fellow synth comfort or reassurance. She gives her the truth because if anything goes wrong, their fate will be worse than death or deactivation. “You give up here, they're one step closer to taking you back. They want you to be scared.” She gets up, finally enough room for her to move.  
  
“I don't want to be scared.” The other synth tugs at her arm. “I don't want to go back.”  
  
“Then get the hell up and let's get out of here.” A smile is not what she expects, especially when she sounds like she's had enough of this other synth.  
  
“Can we go together?” She should say no – this other synth will most likely drag her down and get them both caught.  
  
Yet there's some anomaly she can't understand, and instead of saying no, she doesn't say anything.  
  
The model number of the synth she came in with is G5-19. She learns this not by asking but overhearing. She doesn't ask G5-19 many questions, but that's mostly because she doesn't want to be asked questions back. So far she seems to respect their unsaid agreement that they do not ask each other too many questions.  
  
It doesn't take asking questions to see G5-19's past at the Institute hasn't been an easy one. She knows the signs, and whatever happened to G5-19, is something that should stay buried. Or maybe she's projecting, hoping her own past stays within the Institute.  
  
“The name they gave me in the Institute was G7-81. You're the only person I've told. Not that it matters since the Railroad is going to set up with new lives and we'll probably never see each other again.” She tells G5-19 what seems to be out of the blue.  
  
“Do you really believe we'll never see each other again?” The emotional response, the way G5-19's facial expression is carefully crafted and programmed could trick any human, but G7-81 is no human.  
  
“Not this version of us.” She can't look at G5-19 when she says this.  
  
\--  
  
G7-81 sits next to G5-19 who has been passing the time these days by reading pre-war books. “Have you picked out a name yet? They recommend we name ourselves to adapt to our new lives better.” She's heard it before, but she's in no rush to pick a name out for herself.  
  
“A name isn't going to help with getting used to things here. Facing reality, getting caps, blending in – that will help more than just a name.” G5-19 is still flipping through pages of some book while she speaks. “Once I start living something like a real life, I'll give myself a name.”  
  
“Then I'll do the same.” G5-19 closes the book. “I wonder what we'll be like when we start our new lives with our new names.”  
  
“Better than this.” At first, it's not meant as a joke, but G5-19 laughs, and it turns into one.  
  
\--  
  
There are a few synths and humans she has gotten to let herself rely on. She can't say trust just yet, as she's never trusted anyone. She doesn't even know if what she has with G5-19 is friendship because friendship isn't a priority in the Institute between other synths.  
  
G5-19 leans against her, and it's just the two of them as those from the Railroad aren't back just yet. The campfire she built is flickering, and she wonders how long it'll hold out before it dwindles into smoke signals.  
  
“Will you forgive me when I forget you?” The topic of memory wipes has been occupying both their minds lately. “Will we be friends when we start our new lives?”  
  
She doesn't want to answer this question. Not only because it's hard, but she knows it's impossible to predict. She's grown too soft on G5-19, not wanting to hurt her feelings or do something to create a distance between them.  
  
“Forgetting you is the only thing holding me back. I want to forget everything else, but I don't want to forget you and the memories we have together.” She feels G5-19's hand squeeze hers. Is it out of fear? No, it's out of loneliness.  
  
“This life doesn't seem so bad when I'm with you.” She should have seen this coming, or maybe she did, but part of herself wants to feel G5-19's lips against her own. The kiss is chaste, laced with sadness and of untold feelings.  
  
She wants to be selfish, to tell G5-19 they can overcome whatever life throws at them and to hell will the standard protocols of memory wipes most rescued synths have to go through.  
  
She doesn't tell G5-19 that she feels like she's living an actual life because G5-19 is in her life. Instead, she kisses her back, this time far less composed and hesitant.  
  
\--  
  
When she returns from an errand to help the Railroad one time, Desdemona hands her a note from G5-19. Before she reads it, she sees G5-19's name on the chalk board with a strike through it.  
  
_"Yet through all the Gloom I can see the Rays of ravishing Light and Glory. I can see that the End is more than worth all the Means.”_  
  
"Glory," she says, still looking at the note. "My code name will be Glory."


	8. Moments To Remember (M!Courier/Colonel Hsu)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Anywhere"

Hsu insists they get up and go back the MacCarran, that more than just Boyd will notice he's been away for more than an hour. Yet he just says those words, feeling a finger trace a character on his bare back ( _bear_ in their shared ancestral tongue). He knows those characters, what they mean, but he associates the characters with three very different things (duty, family, love).  
  
"Let's just talk a little," he's told, which is easier said than done because pillow talk and sentimental footnotes muttered between lovers aren't things he's known for. He's known for tactics and logic, a levelheaded approach that minimizes casualties (a rarity in the Republic these days). "Tell me, where are you going after all this?"  
  
This? He turns his head and looks at the man who asked him that question. Does he mean after they put their clothes on and go their separate ways for a few days? Or does he mean after the eventual battle against the Legion? Maybe post-Mojave, even if that is ever a thing.  
  
"Anywhere I'm needed and stationed." That's a soldier's answer, and it's easier to give that one than give one where he's spent time actually thinking about it.  
  
He's laughed at, and it's foolish of him thinking he'd get out of that question so easily. "You're bad at dodging questions. Stick to being straight forward. Leave the vague open ended one liners to me." Being told that is a reminder that he's in love with a mysterious man, an actor in the grand scheme of things in the Mojave, but Hsu still doesn't know what part the man plays. Is he with the NCR? Or are they just convenient allies? He won't enlist and formally join, but he's a hero and a symbol for the troops.  
  
"Where are you going to next?" it's a loaded question, one Hsu's hesitant to finish because he might get an answer that disappoints him or leaves him doubting his relationship with him even more so. "After what's keeping you here, if it's work or preference." He knows some people enjoy the Mojave, but he's not one of them. He's more understanding of the people who come from here, better than most of the upper brass of the NCR, but the bear's den feels more like home.  
  
"A little business and a little pleasure," a vague answer, and Hsu doesn't want to assume that he's a major reason as to why Six is here. It has to be work, especially now with all the factions of the Mojave gearing up to clash. "But after, if there's ever an after for me in the Mojave, anywhere." Hsu is going to comment on that making sense as Six could feasibly pick up work as a mercenary, trader, or courier. "Anywhere with you." It's not romantic how Six says those last words, more like it's some rattled off random fact, a memo that's tucked away. "I'll learn to stay in one place and mind my manners by then, hopefully."


	9. It's A Sin To Tell A Lie (Deacon/Danse)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Deacon/Danse"

Danse is used to being with people with the same agenda, the same goal and philosophy instilled into them by the Brotherhood of Steel. Yet ever since joining up with a certain knight, he’s actively had  to collaborate with those who work against what the Brotherhood promotes.

Speaking of those who work against the Brotherhood.

“Stare harder, go on. I’m sure it’ll help you remember this handsome mug even more. After all, who knows how long I’ll have this face for much longer. Maybe a day, maybe a month. It could even be a week if things go that way.” Jokes by Deacon are not taken as a laughing matter to Danse, but instead a subtle hostile threat in varying degrees (this one is less hostile and more on the annoying side). The Railroad runs on deception and using opportunities, and Deacon embodies that to him.

“You’ve already stated your facial reconstruction tactic.” There are other options to verifying an identity even without technical devices or blood work. How well they’d work in Deacon’s case is an unverified and unknown variable. 

“Right, right. So the staring, is it just because you’ve gotten attached to this face? I’ve got to admit, I think I’m starting to get a little too attached to it myself.” Deacon touches his face and Danse’s eyes narrow purposely to show his displeasure.

“Quiet. I’ve had enough of this conversation.” Danse’s body language backs up that statement. While the distance isn’t too far between them, he feels further and more guarded in his ‘protected’ space.

“Oh, this is some reverse psychology thing, isn’t it? You really want me to keep talking, but you’re telling me to be quiet. Or maybe it’s reverse-reverse psychology because you want me to think that.” Deacon is clearly mocking him, at least that’s Danse’s take away. “Well, I’m not going to fall for any of that.”

“You want me to think this is all just a game, but I know better.” Danse can’t say his patience for Deacon has finally worn thin as that happened ages ago. “I know what you’re doing. This _game_ of yours is just another evaluation and recon tactic; you think by understanding and getting inside my head, you’ll understand the Brotherhood better. Well, you’re not wrong, but I will not be used as your pawn to further your agenda.”

“Damn,” Is Deacon truly taken aback? He doesn’t know and doesn’t care. It’s very possible and likely Danse has revealed his hand and played into Deacon’s game. “Well, I’m not sure if I should feel insulted or complimented. That is one elaborate scheme, something I could probably pull off, sure, but the effort that would take.”

“You are the Railroad’s most accomplished agent of subterfuge. I expect nothing less and hold you to that standard to protect myself and every member of the Brotherhood of Steel.”

“Another compliment! It isn’t my birthday, is it? It would really suck if I forgot my own birthday.” The derailing jokes keep coming, angering Danse. Yet even if Deacon weren’t doing this, he most likely would be acting this way too.

“You may change your face, but I’ve heard properly changing one’s voice to become completely unrecognizable takes years and is almost impossible.” He read that in an old pre-war book about spies in the workplace.

“So you’re trying to remember my voice? I get it now.” Deacon looks pleased with himself, like he can see through Danse and see what he’s thinking. “So what if I said after all this happens, and this blows over, you’re in a bar somewhere and someone comes up and whispers in your ear,” Deacon scoots closer to him, leaning in to whisper into his ear. “ ‘Sorry about the new face, I know you liked the old one.’ you’ll know it’s me? Buy me a drink and take me back home?” His body doesn’t move when Deacon is speaking, becoming too rigid to move. Yet once he’s done, he pushes Deacon away from him.

“If that _were_ to happen, and I doubt it would, yes, I would know it was you.” Should he have given Deacon that confirmation? He is not cut out to deal with subterfuge and manipulation tactics. "And no, I would never do the latter.

“I’ll keep that in mind, then.” Deacon recovers from being pushed away, now laughing to himself like he’s the only one that gets the joke. “It might come in handy in the future. You never know.”


	10. Take My Hand, Precious Lord (M!Courier/Joshua Graham)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Gay Joshua Graham content"

Every time Six visits, Joshua feels the entire Dead Horses tribe brighten up and become happier; they welcome him home like a lost son. Joshua welcomes Six in a much more calmer and restrained fashion, and he’s probably one of the last to greet him. Six is more impatient about waiting for their reunion than he is, but he finds the waiting a humbling experience. He knows they will have time alone eventually, usually when night falls and most of the tribe is asleep.

In the cave Joshua waits, fixing up a jammed gun Daniel gave him a day earlier. Six is most likely immersed in stories of what has transpired since his last visit. So far their only gesture to each other has been mutual eye contact and Six smiling and winking at him. That is enough to satiate Joshua, as seeing him alive, well, and happy means his prayers have been answered.

He knows Six enters the cave, but doesn’t say anything. He keeps working on the jammed gun, letting the cave’s echoes tell him what Six is doing rather than using his own eyes. He can tell Six has brought plenty of things for the Dead Horses and the Sorrows. Whether from the Mojave or something he calls the ‘Big Empty’ he cannot tell.

Six walks closer to the cave's main area, and Joshua could see him if he were to look away from the jammed gun. “Long day, huh? Or night. Probably both.” Six walks closer to him, getting close enough to hover over his shoulder. “What are you up to?”

“I promised to fix Daniel’s gun as soon as possible and return it.” It’s true, and working on the gun has its own benefits. It focuses and grounds him, makes him able to concentrate. When Six arrived earlier in the day, his thoughts became flustered and disorganized.

He felt like this once when he was younger for another man. The same man created the Burned Man. This man and Six are far different from each other, and he hates comparing the two of them together because it’s unfair to Six. Yet what happened to him before has created lingering wounds that are beyond physical, and he’s hesitant to let what’s between him and Six fully develop and flourish.

“Want me to drop it off when I go visit?”

“If you could, I’d be grateful.” That would give Joshua more time to prep things for when the caravans come, but he should eventually see Daniel when he has the time.

“Of course I can.” Six seems eager enough, and Joshua figures it’s a way to help him feel like a courier again.

The conversation ends there, Joshua still working on the gun. Six leans against the desk now, as if he’s waiting for something to happen.

Minutes pass and Six groans.

“You need to get better at this whole reunion thing, you know.” Six complains, but Joshua finds his words are true. He should be warmer, embrace him as lovers should.

There’s a blockade Joshua hasn’t figured out how to deal with. Prayer can only do so much in this manner. He can’t have God tell Six his feelings for him, that he truly cares and loves him more than he ever expected to.

“Forgive me.” Joshua finally looks at him but remains sitting.

“No. I’m not your god. I don’t forgive that easily. I want you to make it up to me.” The demand is childish, but he knows that how Six expresses frustration with him.

“What does this demand entail?” He hopes Six isn’t going to make him do anything that is ridiculous. They both can hold grudges, though.

“Welcome me back properly.” The demand catches Joshua off guard when Six says it. “I can recommend a few ways on how, but since you want to try keeping things slow, a kiss can work.” It’s then he realizes all the times they’ve kissed, Six has been the initiator.

He remembers their first kiss after walking together under the moonlight. It was Six who peeled back some of his bandages, muttered a rushed half-apology, and kissed him. 

Joshua gets up from the desk, Six giving him more space. Six is looking into his eyes, possibly taunting and or encouraging him. He moves some of the bandages from his mouth, the exposed area tingles and then hurts soon after. He doesn’t wince, accustomed to hiding how his body physically reacts.

He leans in to kiss him, but before he does, he says something he should have told Six before. “Welcome back, Six.” He kisses Six, feeling the younger man smiling, which makes things a bit more difficult, but he doesn’t mind.


	11. Well Oh Well (Marcus/Lenny)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "New Reno"

The lawlessness, corruption, and chaos of New Reno aren't remotely appealing to Marcus. He's already seen a man get shot over a hat and another almost beaten to death due to someone else 'forcibly' ending his winning streak. Stuff like that, places like New Reno, remind him of The Master's plan that was supposed to unite them all.  
  
Now the only thing that's uniting them, mutant, ghoul, and human alike is the current boxing match at the Jungle Gym. At least Lenny seems to be enjoying the match, but that's most likely due to their favorite Tribal being the rising star of this place rather than the fight itself.  
  
The ghoul standing next to him, much smaller in frame and height than Marcus, watches with admirable eagerness and attentiveness to what's going on in the match. Marcus can't help but smile just a little when Lenny becomes excited, even if it's much more subdued than anyone else in the room.  
  
"Lenny," He tries to get his attention. "Think our favorite Tribal has a chance?" Marcus knows he does, and he knows Lenny's answer matches up with his, but he wants to strike up a conversation with him. "Lenny," Marcus repeat again, this time putting his hand on Lenny's shoulder and shaking him just enough. "Enjoying the show?"  
  
When Marcus finally gets his attention, Lenny looks a little disoriented. "S-sorry, what?"  
  
"I never thought you'd be interested in watching humans beat each other up and watch them gloat about it." Marcus is teasing him, and his voice and smile make that clear.  
  
"No, no it's not that it's..." Marcus laughs as Lenny searches for his next words. "I, I want to be supportive."  
  
"And that's why you're all the way in the back of the room with me." Marcus still has his hand on Lenny's shoulder. "Instead of up there with the humans."  
  
"I didn't want to leave you alone, and you're much quieter than anyone else here." Lenny avoids eye contact with him, stammering on a few of his words. "I like watching the matches with you."  
  
The confession takes him aback mostly due to Lenny not wanting to leave him alone. "It's good to know my volume level is appreciated."  
  
"Your company more." Lenny quickly follows up, rushing his words.  
  
"That too." They both smile at each other, the winning bell ringing in the background as their mutual friend is declared the winner.


	12. You Go To My Head (NSFW: F!Vault Dweller/Katja)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "F!VaultDweller/Katja"

Tucked away in the corner of the Followers' library, Natalia and Katja have started to take shots of some vodka Natalia 'picked' up from of the Regulators. Katja doesn't know too much about people from those vault things, but she can tell something's pretty unique about Natalia. She's only known her for a week or so, but she's more resourceful and cunning than anyone she's met in the Boneyard.  
  
They're cuddling next to each other, bodies pressed closely like they're trying to keep warm. So far it seems like this might turn into an interesting night, but how interesting is another thing.  
  
“Твоё здоровье! За женщин!” Natalia takes another shot of vodka, and when finished, she doesn't even flinch at the taste. She slams the shot glass onto the library floor, eyeing Katja. “Giving up already?”  
  
“Not a chance,” Katja watches Natalia laughing, pouring the shot glass full for another round. “What did you say anyway? It doesn't sound like any tribal language or English.”  
  
“Russian, and a salute to all the women, but for us in particular.” Katja pushes the shot glass to her lips, smelling and knowing how bad it tastes. “Don't be scared, it stings only to remind you that you're alive.”  
  
She wants to take the shot as impressively as Natalia, but she doesn't. While she does get it down in one gulp, she winces and has to force the liquid down. “ Son of a brahmin.” She curses only for Natalia to laugh at her. “You think this is funny?” Maybe the alcohol is starting to kick in, and her half threat half question sounds more hilarious than tough.  
  
“No, I think it is quite cute.” Natalia crawls over to her, straddling over her lap. “I think you've had enough for the night. I want your mind clear for this.” Katja doesn't get to say otherwise as Natalia kisses her, her hands holding onto Katja's shoulders.  
  
Katja kisses her back, cupping Natalia's face with one of her hands. What she doesn't expect is Natalia rolling her onto her back, smirking at her, restraining her hands so quickly. “How interesting could we make this? Or how loud can we be until someone finds us?” Natalia whispers into her ear, nibbling at the lobe.  
  
“I think it's pretty interesting already, but I could think of a few things. I just need one of my hands, two would be better.” Despite Katja's request, Natalia keeps her hands where they are.  
  
“Work for it.” Natalia smirks at her, and that smirk only makes her more determined to free herself from the other woman's grasp.  
  
She struggles under Natalia's grasp and weight, but eventually after a struggle, and a few kisses between, she's able to have gravity work in her favor. Natalia is now the one pinned under her body, and instead of looking defeated, Natalia looks much more into it than ever before.  
  
“I knew you could do it.” A congratulation, but Katja wants more than just words. “Well done.”  
  
Katja reaches for her knife but finds it's missing. “You-” She could have sworn it was there a minute ago.  
  
“My hands are never idle.” Which is confirmation Natalia stole it from her, most likely during their tousle.  
  
She kisses her, a bit frustrated at someone stealing her knives, but also impressed. She feels for where Natalia has hidden her knives, which has its own added benefits. When she does find one of her knives, she stops kissing her, staring down at the woman under her, feeling rather victorious.  
  
“One down, how much more to go, hm?” Katja is up for that challenge Natalia has just proposed, using that newly acquired knife to cut open the front of Natalia's vault suit.  
  
“Do you trust me?” Katja makes sure the sharp edge of the knife isn't pressing against the newly exposed flesh, but the cold metal still makes contact with her skin. “You shouldn't trust anyone around here.”  
  
“I trust me.” Natalia still is smirking, oozing with confidence and acting like she's in control of the entire situation. Katja cuts through part of Natalia's bra, unfastening it in the easiest manner she can think of but not removing it.  
  
“Good answer.” Katja removes the pressed knife, putting it back where it rightfully belongs. She kisses her again, snaking one hand down that ripped vault suit. She cups one of her breasts, hand moving underneath the torn bra. She feels for Natalia's nipple, using her fingers to massage it.  
  
It seems like ordinary foreplay and making out for a brief few minutes, but then Katja reaches for her knife, checking to see if it's there, but it's gone missing again. The kiss ends, Katja gives her an accusing stare, fully knowing what Natalia just did.  
  
“I'm no good with idle hands.” Natalia's act of being overly the top innocent just proves how cocky she is. “Will you forgive me?”  
  
“I'll give your hands something else to do.” And Katja does, letting Natalia keep one of her knives as a souvenir of their first night together.


	13. Memories Are Made Of This (M!Courier/Arcade)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A quick-ish and informal Six/Arcade drabble"

Night isn’t a safe time of day when legionaries are crawling all over the place. Luckily Six and Boone spotted an airport right before the sun fully set. Arcade rather not sleep in a cramped cave with Six’s entire ensemble in tow. Yet he would have if it meant the security of not be taken by surprise by the Legion.  

Right now Boone and Cass are on watch together, and Raul and Six should be swapping in for them soon. He’s done his own rounds of watch before, and he finds Raul probably the best partner. Arcade likes hearing the stories he’s accumulated, and he’s a lot more forgiving when it comes to thinking a bighorn is a fiend or legionnaire. Cass isn’t so bad herself, but he always ends up drinking a little too much because as they swap stories, they’re also sharing moonshine. Boone is well, Boone. Focused and precise, and more than open to criticize him when he makes a mistake. He doesn’t take it personally, though, or enough that it really bothers him. Boone’s willing to teach him, give him tips on how to improve. Then there’s Six, who he’s been more frequently paired up with as of recently. Six is relaxed like Cass in terms of being on watch, but instead of stories there is just small talk and bad jokes. There have been times he’s made Arcade laugh, but those are minor details. The eyebot hovering over Six is only a bit less menacing than it was compared to when they first met.

Through the cracks in the airport’s ceiling, Arcade sees stars in the night sky. He remembers that the stars he’s seeing are probably dead. Their glow is a trick to thinking they’re still around when they’ve long been dead.

Stars remind him of a fragment of the Enclave flag his mother had. Apparently she used to have an intact flag, a family heirloom. Yet it was too risky carrying around an Enclave flag, so she only kept a fragment with a single star on it. He buried that fragment with her body when she passed away.  

He reaches his hand out, knowing he can’t really grasp the stars, but he does so anyway. He doesn’t expect someone to grab his hand, yet someone does. He can’t see who it is since he doesn’t have his glasses on and it’s dark. Yet he has a feeling who it is by process of elimination.

“Can’t sleep?” The voice confirms his assumption of this being Six is confirmed. “Boone can’t either, which means he’s more than willing to take my place.”

Arcade withdraws his hand, sitting up as he searches for his glasses. “And you let him? He needs to at least attempt to get some sleep.”

“We’ve talked about it before. Don’t worry.” A green glow illuminates the area, the light emitting from Six’s pipboy. “He’s just having one of those nights. Probably because the Legion’s all over this place.”

The green light helps Arcade find his glasses, and when he puts them on, he can now see Six’s face. “Just don’t take advantage of it.”

“I’m not. Anyway, you didn’t answer me.” Arcade was hoping he could dodge that question. “So, can’t sleep?”

“Not at the moment.” He doesn’t tell Six why, but even if he did, he doesn’t know much beyond letting his thoughts linger too much into past memories.

“Come take a walk with me. It’ll clear your head and make you tired. Or wake you up enough that you’ll be fine in the morning. Both work out in the end.” Six offers his hand again and Arcade takes it.

“We’re really going for a walk after all the walking we’ve done already?” He has to ask that question even if he’s going along with it.

“This is walking for fun. The other is walking because we needed to get out of Legion territory.” Six helps him stand up, and there’s a brief moment where personal space is non-existent for both of them.

They walk side by side, Six’s eyebot is to the left of him while Arcade is to the right. Arcade has his hands deeply settled into his coat pockets while Six’s arms are swaying ever so slightly. Six’s pipboy is the main source of light, illuminating their path. So far they’ve shared a few small stories and a few laughs. It’s a much more intimate and casual atmosphere than what he’s used to involving the other man. The only time they ever spent a good time alone is when Arcade was putting his rusty suturing skills to use or trying to figure out the correct dose of RadAway.

“I had a strange dream,” Arcade thinks that’s quite the opening statement, and he expects something humorous to follow because it just seems like something Six would do. “I was wearing a vault suit and robotic birds were attacking me and large dragonflies spat fire at me.” While technically the mental image of that does sound bizarre and could be considered funny, the way Six says it sounds serious like he’s contemplating a possible deeper meaning. “Then a woman was crying on a beach and she pointed out to the ocean, and all the robotic birds and giant dragonflies stopped attacking me and flew to where she pointed.” He pauses like he’s trying to remember more details. “I think she mentioned a place or a name, but I can’t remember it. I think she was telling me something important.”

Arcade doesn’t respond right away, instead reflecting on what he just heard. Six told him this for a reason, and it isn’t for laughs or for flirtatious reasons. Could this be him opening up to him? A person could easily dismiss his dream and make fun of him.

“Could it have something to do with your past? Perhaps memory fragments put together into a mosaic in this dream.” Arcade could speculate more, but this is Six’s journey of introspection.

“… I think you’re right.” Six puts his hands into his pockets now, nodding.

After that exchange, it’s quiet for at least twenty minutes. The silence isn’t awkward, though. Arcade is thinking about the dream and he has a feeling Six is too.

What breaks the silence is Six’s eyebot beeping, signaling something most likely hostile is around them. Arcade takes outs his gun and Six does the same. They’re both cautious in their approach, knowing if the Legion takes them by surprise, it won’t be an easy fight with darkness and the surrounding area on their side.

A sound of a explosion draws their attention, and the light from the explosion illuminates the area. They walk towards the explosion, most likely Six knowing if they walked away, who knows what would be coming after them by surprise so it’s better to confront.

There’s a large crater with dead legionaries and parts of robots scattered around. The glow from the broken robots and the hot metal are bright enough to see how vast the crater is and the overall damage. Yet what catches Arcade’s eyes soon after is what caused the crater.

“Vertibird,” he mutters under his breath knowing exactly what the crashed object is.

His curiosity wants him to approach it as he hasn’t seen one in so long. Is this one from the NCR? Or is this old enough that it could be from Navarro or the oil rig itself?

“Burnt legionaries smell like shit. Not surprised.” Six goes down the crater without hesitation, Arcade a bit delayed in following him due to getting lost in his thoughts.  

Six picks through the wreckage while Arcade has time to touch and get a good look at the vertibird. It looks old, and he’s surprised someone didn’t scavenge the wreckage already – maybe the robots were protecting it.  

“A vertibird. It’s been a while since I’ve seen one.” He starts this conversation with Six hoping he can talk to him about it.

“What do you know about them?” When Six asks that, looking at him, he realizes he’s made a big mistake. This is why he hides in the corner of the Mormon Fort so he doesn’t get into these awkward situations.

“Uh, what does anyone know about them? Big… flying machines, right? Crazy helicopters. So weird.” He tries to play it off like a joke, but the entire conversation feels awkward. He can’t stop mentally beating himself up over how embarrassing he’s being right now.

“It kind of looks like a giant metal dragonfly.” Six shrugs and goes back to scavenging through the scrap metal.  

Arcade is quiet after their brief exchange, trying to recover his composure and sense of dignity as he watches Six look for something useful. Eventually, it seems he does find something, looking triumphant as he holds what appears to be a tesla cannon over his head.

“And I bet you were thinking I was wasting my time.” He smiles at Six’s gloating because there’s something endearing about it in this context and moment.

“Or both our time, but I guess I was wrong.” He laughs first before Six laughs, still grinning.

“Time to head back I think. The sun should be up in a few hours.” Six starts climbing out of the crater, walking slower than before as he holds the large tesla cannon. “Feel like carrying this?” He knows Six isn’t serious, especially after the first time Arcade told him he wasn’t a pack brahmin.

“If you want you’re overpowered fascist paramilitary weaponry, you’re going to have to carry it back yourself.” He jokes back, seeing the faint outline of the sun starting to rise upon the Mojave.  


	14. Sunday, Monday or Always (M!Courier/Ulysses)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "anything with ulysses. anything."

There is always a darkness over the Divide, but when it’s night, the darkness is too consuming for most. Ulysses is used to it, though, and having a large campfire keeps things illuminated just enough.

Earlier in the day, Six found an Old World flag. He gave it to Ulysses like an offhanded gesture with little thought put into it, but he knows better. Six is more calculated than he lets on, and being spontaneous or erratic means more than random acts of pointlessness. Now, does Ulysses understand everything about him? Hardly. Yet the more Six has come to visit the Divide, an understanding beyond courier to courier has developed.

“You’re really going to keep that thing?” Six asks him from across the campfire. “There are better preserved ones in New Vegas.”

Ulysses doesn’t look up, instead, keeping a steady pace as he sews together the small holes in the flag. “It has its own story from the Divide. It’s marked, worn, and experienced the Divide in ways few have.”

“So you’re saying that it has character?” Ulysses can’t quite figure out what Six is up to, but it could simply be Six trying to understand him. He’s always described Ulysses as ‘a lot of words with hidden meanings’ a number of times. “Huh, I guess that’s true. You have a weakness for things in the Divide, but I can’t say I don’t have that weakness, too.”

“If this Old World flag could talk, what would it tell us? Would it lament on what has happened to it, or would it see how things start again no matter the devastation?” He likes to engage in these philosophical conversations with Six, but he knows Six doesn’t enjoy answering these questions so readily. He knows it makes the other man uncomfortable to an extent. That’s why he does it, though, because it makes him think and take responsibility. Ulysses benefits from it, too, seeing another perspective that contrasts his greatly.

“I’d hope one of those. I rather not hear how someone jerked off into it. Talk about fucking over the Old World and disrespecting it.” He expects a joke to deflect from the original question, and the crude words don’t affect Ulysses at all.

“Do you fear the judgement of old symbols? They haunt and linger all over, but in the Divide and the Big Empty, their presence is felt more.” Ulysses knows if Six isn’t here or visiting the Strip, he’s most likely keeping to himself in that Old World relic.

“You know we both don’t. If I were, I wouldn’t spend more than five minutes in the Big Empty.”

“But you feel judged in the Divide.” Six’s face looks annoyed when he mentions that. “You keep coming here, but are you really here?”

“I have my reasons.” The defenses go up, which means he’s getting somewhere.

“Then claim your reasons as your own.” Ulysses knows he’s probably one of the few that can make Six admit uncomfortable things like this. His traveling companions know a side of Six Ulysses doesn’t, but he’s very sure they’ve never seen him like this.

“I think if I did that, it’d be pretty kinky of me.” The delivery of the joke of Six is more dismissive than an act of deflection. Something else is happening that’s different than before.

Ulysses doesn’t say anything, knowing silence is more powerful than anything he could say right now.

“Why do I keep coming here, knowing I caused this place to turn into a bunch of ruins and ghosts.” Six gets up from his spot near the campfire and approaches Ulysses. “What if the Strip, New Vegas, falls into ruin like this place because of my actions.” Six bends down, grabbing onto the lapels of his trench coat. “If we’re both here among ghosts, are we both fools for hoping something new and alive is going to come out of this place?”

Ulysses doesn’t flinch even with Six so close to him, their noses almost touching each other. “I think you haunt this place more than these ghosts.” Their lips brush against each other. “I’d say you haunt me when I’m not here.” Six doesn’t sound annoyed, but instead… is it loneliness? He can’t be certain.

He wants Six to reflect on his words, but it seems he has something else in mind. Their physical proximity makes it no surprise for Ulysses when Six kisses him on the lips. Six is still holding onto the lapels of his trench coat, but instead of bending over, he straddles his waist.

Ulysses lets go of the Old World flag and kisses him back, his hands roaming over the other courier’s body. He knows Six prefers to show things with actions when he's being truthful, and the message is very apparent. How deep these feelings go or what they are exactly, they probably don’t know, but in the Divide, something new is born. 


	15. Wrap Your Troubles In Dreams (Veronica/Christine)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'd love anything with them being reunited and bonus for pet names"

Veronica has tried to get more information about the Sierra Madre from Six for years now, but all she has are fragments of what happened, all of them bad. Her former mentor was there, used it as some testing ground. He died there, by Six's hands, but the story always seemed half told. Veronica doesn't hold that against him, though, the Elijah she knew died the day they lost Helios One. Whatever Six went through during his experience at the Sierra Madre changed him.  
  
Yet a lot of things have changed Six in the past couple of years. For the better, she thinks. He's a part of the Brotherhood of Steel, and probably the only person that can change them and keep them from dying out. She believes that, anyway, she doesn't think Six believes that. He might never be the Elder, but everyone in the bunker wouldn't dare go against him after what transpired in the Mojave almost one and a half years ago.  
  
Six is usually up in some Old World death trap up of a place, but once in a while, he returns to the Mojave to check up on things. Instead of getting her a dress and being asked to look at some pre-war tech, Six tells her to come along with him.  
  
She follows him like she did when they first met.  
  
She has no idea where he's taking her. No matter how many times she asks, he keeps telling her it's a 'secret' and something for the 'bucket list'. Maybe her best friend shouldn't have been someone who can walk and talk faster than her. She still gets something good out of this, him promising he'll get her a new hat.  
  
It's only when she sees some sort of red mist and a silhouette of a large compound that she starts taking this whole thing a lot more seriously. She doesn't need to ask him the question, and he confirms it's the Sierra Madre.  
  
So that's how she ends up in the Sierra Madre, currently getting major creepy vibes from this graveyard of old tech and debauchery. There are actually ghosts here, but they're holograms or zombies, which is ghost-y enough for Veronica. Most of the holograms seem to know who Six is, even waving and welcoming him back. For a place he doesn't like to talk about, he knows the hallways and every corner of this place like the back of his hand.  
  
"She's spotted us already, I should have known." Veronica looks at Six mutter to himself. "I wanted to surprise her, but I couldn't take her to you."  
  
Veronica is confused by those words, but before she has the chance to ask Six, she hears footsteps and someone comes out of a cloud of red dust. Whoever it is, they're wearing one of the outfits of the ghost people, but their figure is very different from them.  
  
"I brought home to you since you can't go there yourself." Veronica has no idea what he's talking about, but whoever he's talking to seems to know way more than she does. "I wanted to surprise you, just a little."  
  
The person starts to take off their mask, and when Veronica sees their, no, her face. All the jokes and tag along humor she's about to say vanish from her mind. She stares at the woman before her, and she sees the first actual ghost in the Sierra Madre.  
  
"You shouldn't have brought her here." The voice is different, but she knows who that is.  
  
"Christine," she's not sure what's she's going to say after that, but she forces something out. "Nice place you got, minus the ghost people and deadly red clouds of death. You always had weird taste, something I've always forgiven you for because you were cute." At least Six finds her joke funny.

After that awkward confrontation, Christine takes her to one of the hotel suites, her personal one judging by the lack of skeletons and a half built lab. The walk over isn't as awkward as it could have been, Veronica making a little small talk as Christine tries her best to look like she isn't looking at her constantly. Veronica gets a few good looks, noticing a number of new scars beyond just that new voice.  
  
"Did you want something to drink? There's plenty of alcohol and rad free water." Veronica can tell Christine is avoiding the inevitable conversation that's going to take place between them.  
  
Veronica sits down on a couch, not wanting to beat around things anymore. She rather have it not be awkward for any longer. For years she thought about what it would be like to meet up with Christine again. Yet now that it's happened, it's lacking both of them in cute dresses and large pre-war sun hats.  
  
"Did you really mean it, that you didn't want to see me again?" The question is harsh, but Veronica says it in a teasing like manner. "You were rather dramatic back there."  
  
The question startles Christine, which Veronica thinks is kind of cute because so far the other woman has clearly been shielding herself off and keeping her distance. "Yes, no, _yes_ but..." Christine goes to sit on the same couch, keeping space between them, a very visible amount of space. "It's not you, it's me."  
  
"It sounds like we're actually having our official break up on our own terms. After all these years." It's easier to frame how everything happened in such simple terms rather than recalling, reliving, painful memories.  
  
She doesn't want to remember how she held Christine in her arms and how she forced out reassurances they both knew were impossible at the time. Yet she did, and she knows Christine is remembering those last moments they had together.  
  
"I'm not who I was all those years ago, Veronica. I'm not proud of who and what I've become, what I've sacrificed to get here." Veronica knows it's not the scars but something deeper, something tied to this place.  
  
"I'm not the same either, but that doesn't mean we can't talk or see each other again, does it?" Veronica scoots closer to Christine, placing a hand on her leg. "For old time's sake?"  
  
Christine looks into her eyes but soon turns her head away, a look of shame. "I asked that courier friend of yours to kill Elijah for me since I couldn't. I couldn't even do that for the Brotherhood, for..." Veronica thinks she's going to say 'us', but she doesn't. "Closure." That was hopeful wishing built upon lingering feelings.  
  
Veronica removes her hand, pushing her lips together to think over this information. Her opinion of Christine hasn't changed, but it is something to think about. "He's been dead to me long before that. The recent-ish addition of him trying to kill everyone in the Mojave with tech the Brotherhood is supposed to keep out of the hands of murderous assholes was the last straw." They both know what the first straw is, how he kept them apart.  
  
"I couldn't let the anger go, let him go after-" Christine stops herself, getting up from the couch, walking away, her back facing Veronica. "It seems you had an easier time. I'm thankful for that."  
  
Veronica doesn't take it as in insult, as it's clear Christine has gone through things she feels she doesn't have the right to ask about anymore. Yet she still wants to know because she cares about her, and what happened between them never felt right.

"If you count getting almost exiled and having most of the people you share a tiny bunker with hate you, sure." Christine turns around to look at her, and her face shows she still very much cares about her. "It wasn't so bad. I met a lot of interesting people on the surface, learned and saw things the Brotherhood codex probably doesn't sanction."  
  
"It's… it's good you're still with the Brotherhood." Veronica gets up, walking over to Christine as she plays with her dog tags. Veronica knows that symbol on them, the Circle of Steel logo. "These are trying times for all chapters."  
  
"Are you still with the Brotherhood?" She can't help but assume this entire operation and Christine being here is fully authorized by them.  
  
"My presence here follows the codex, and they got what they wanted, his death." Veronica is starting to notice how things go back to Elijah's death, and she wonders if it's because of Christine or what they're talking about.  
  
"So does that mean…?" Veronica leads on, hoping for a better explanation.  
  
"I'm either not worth the effort of retrieval, or it's the Circle telling me my self-appointed position is acceptable."  
  
"Got it," the Circle of Steel is known for being mysterious and ruthless, being strict to the original codex. She can see how that sort of training would affect Christine. "So what's your job now? Do you babysit this place like Six does the Big Empty?"  
  
Christine nods, and finally, Veronica sees her smile. "If you want to put it that way."  
  
Veronica smiles back at her, and in that moment, she can feel the forced space Christine held between them start to grow smaller. It feels comfortable to be close to her, and probably too nostalgic for their own good.  
  
"You still have great legs." Flirtation feels like a natural progression, and it's not a lie, Christine still has great legs.  
  
"You still know how to make a girl feel special." She's relieved to hear Christine being receptive rather than turning the conversation in a more serious direction.  
  
"Do I, _Chris-Cross_? And what about you? Do you still know how to make a girl feel special?" Veronica leans in, tilting her head. She's taller than Christine, but only by a little.  
  
"Maybe, " Christine laughs once. " _Angel_." Calling back to old nicknames doesn't feel as strange as it should be as they're no longer the same Chris-Cross and Angel that used those nicknames.  
  
How easy would it be to pretend that nothing bad happened during their time apart? That they left on good terms, that Father Elijah didn't send Christine away from her? Could she pretend they're old lovers, rekindling and getting to know each other again?  
  
It's Christine who kisses her, and the kiss isn't something that matches the tone of their conversation. It feels rushed, anxious. It reminds Veronica a bit like the first time they kissed, how it was a kiss that had questions waiting for it after.  
  
Veronica could ask all those questions, even answer all of Christine's questions, but she says one after the kiss ends. "Can I stay here for the night?" Christine just responds with another kiss, which is enough confirmation to say she'll be staying here, perhaps even longer than just one night.


	16. You're Getting To Be A Habit With Me (Curie/F!Sole Survivor)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "New to her synth body, Curie gets injured and Survivor helps her cope"

"Aïe!" Nora looks behind her, seeing Curie clutching her right hand.  
  
She walks over, slightly confused because she doesn't see anything or anyone that could harm either of them nearby. Yet Nora is still cautious, moving her right hand towards her pistol.  
  
"This sensation, it… it did not go as expected!" Curie looks at her, revealing a decent amount of blood and a small gash on her palm.  
  
"What did you expect exactly?" She knows Curie is still getting used to her new synth body, but she didn't expect all the little things with it. She never expected to hear Curie mutter to herself how she needed to put one foot forward at a time when walking or counting to help her not gasp for air.  
  
"I thought my body would reflexively pull back or stop me from touching the sharp piece of glass, but it seems my will to test my new body overrides what should be in its best interest. And the blood, this is my blood? It's nothing like what I am used to in research, but it's my _blood_." Nora removes that hand on her pistol, taking Curie's cradled hand into hers. "Mon Dieu!"  
  
Nora gets the general idea of what Curie is trying to say, trying to process. She's mostly left with the impression that Curie, even when freaking out, is cute in her own way. It's probably bad she's thinking Curie's reaction is cute, even precious, since she should be concerned about Curie hurting herself, accidental or by too much curiosity. Yet the way she's learning about the world, herself, Curie's attitude is optimistic rather than begrudging.  
  
"You see, being human, free will always win out over what is best for us." Nora laughs. "Most of the time." She takes out a bottle of vodka she picked up earlier this week, it feeling lighter than it did the last time she took it out. "Keep still, and this will hurt like Hell, but-"  
  
"Sterilization! That is quite resource-Aïe!" Nora doesn't wait for Curie to finish talking, pouring the alcohol over the wound.  
  
"Sorry," Nora doesn't need to apologize technically, but she does. "It'll sting a bit longer, but I'm sure you know that." Curie is better at medicine than she is, but Nora knows some practical knowledge and has picked up quite a bit since she left the vault.  
  
Nora wraps the wound with some ripped cloth she found earlier in the week. She hopes it's clean enough for a temporary dressing until they get to Diamond City. She's not exactly sure about how synth bodies react to bodily infections, and she's not sure if Curie knows either (though, Curie is more willing to find out than she is most likely).  
  
After tying up the make shift dressing so it doesn't come loose, she brings Curie's palm to her hand, kissing where the wound is. "All better now."  
  
Curie tilts her head, clearly confused about the gesture. "It still needs at least a day to heal, but thank you, Nora. You must think I am foolish to have done this to myself."  
  
"A little, but you have your reasons. Just don't hurt yourself on purpose again, or try not to. I can't kiss and make big wounds all better." She laughs at her own joke, but the joke is lost on Curie.  
  
"Kissing has not been medically proven to heal wounds faster." Oh, now Nora understands why Curie looked confused. "But the sentiment that you want me to heal faster is encouraging."  
  
"You're right. It's just something you do when someone you care about gets hurt." Explaining this to her is actually sort of embarrassing and making her realize it is silly.  
  
"But you don't do it to the others when they are hurt. Monsieur MacCready got hurt quite badly that one time, and I saw you dress his wounds. You gave him some Med-X and a Stimpak, no kiss." Curie looks concerned about her now, the tables turning. "Do you not care about the others?"  
  
"I do, very much so." Nora never really thought about it nor did she think she'd find herself in this situation with Curie of all people. "It's just different."

"Different," Curie repeats, not sounding satisfied with that answer. "Was it the type of wound?"  
  
"No, but kissing gunshot wounds is probably something I'll never try doing."  
  
"Then is it the location site?"  
  
"Palms are easier to kiss, at least if you don't want to try being flexible." Once again Nora laughs at her attempt at a joke.  
  
"Then that leaves one condition and way too many variables to account for." Curie really is taking this thing a bit too literally. "If I want to reproduce this behavior, I would like to do it correctly the next time you are hurt."  
  
"Repro-" Nora hears the rest of the sentence and smiles. "You don't need to wait for me to get hurt to kiss me, Curie." She smiles. "In fact, I don't feel like waiting and I rather not get hurt for that to happen. It really does kill the mood." Nora kisses Curie on the lips, free will winning over what is probably a good idea.


	17. Guess Things Happen That Way (Cass/F!Courier)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Cass and her girlfriend go on a big fancy date."

Usually Cass finds Rex on her bed, sometimes Lily or Veronica, but this time Cass finds a letter and a dress that looks like something one of those almost-cannibals would go wild for. She picks up the letter, seeing it's from Six.  
  
_Cass ❀_  
  
I’m looking forward towards our date tonight. Veronica helped me pick this out, so you'll disappointing her more than me if you don't end up wearing it.  
  
Sincerely,  
  
Your favorite postal worker turned babysitter  
  
Six’s sense of humor shines through in the letter, and unlike most letters, she folds it in half instead of crumbling it. She puts the letter in her back pocket, now getting a better look at the dress she was left behind. It looks like something Veronica would pick out, much classier and refined than anything she’s ever worn; it looks like something a wealthy New Reno socialite would wear with a bit more coverage.  
  
It’s not bad, she likes the way it looks, but she’s not sure if it’s fitting for her. For Veronica? Yes. Her? She’s worried she’ll tear it, stain it, and rip the zipper before she takes the elevator to the penthouse tonight. Ha, she’s worried she’ll damage a dress of all things. Yet she knows it’s not the dress, but who gifted it to her and Veronica’s efforts. She can already see Veronica insisting to repair any torn seams and begging Cass to twirl for her a few times to get a look (now that she thinks about it, if she did twirl, the pleats would look like flowers).  
  
She must really be in love if she’s thinking this way, folding a letter and keeping every little thing of Six close to her. After all, who knows how long this is going to last (forever is a word from the Old World).  
  
She tidies up, wearing that dress Six got her. She puts on the necklace from her old man, it standing out much more with the dress’ neckline. She wonders if Veronica factored that in, or maybe it was Six. Six notices those little details sometimes, or maybe it’s just luck she notices them.  
  
She wonders if anyone is going to walk in on her, but this place is more of a graveyard than before. The presidential suite has always been creepy to her, Arcade and Veronica seem more interested in it being a snapshot of the Old World than she is.  
  
Yet no one else is here, probably Six’s and Veronica’s doing. Arcade left the group a few days ago, but if he were here, she could hear him saying something in Latin (always the Latin) about treasuring what little time they all have left.  
  
The elevator trip feels longer than it normally does, and she regrets not wearing her hat as it feels like some body armor. She’s not afraid of having some silly dinner date with Six, but she knows time set aside like this, so close to what it is inevitable, shows Six is worried about their future, too. That’s a drastic change from the woman Cass first met whose only guiding light was revenge on a checkered suit bastard.  
  
She’s been coming up to the penthouse more often now that she’s been sleeping with Six. While the place still gives her vibes of the Old World trying to pry its way to the present, it’s not as stilted or overwhelming as it was before. Maybe because instead of associating it with House, she associates it with roaming hands, bad jokes, and cursing during sex.  
  
She finds Six staring down at the Strip, the night sky not so dark due to the Strip being fully powered now. Then off in the distance, she can see the darkness that lies beyond the Strip. It’s rare for anyone to sneak up on Six, usually her pet robot alerting her to anything, but this time the robot and Six are just staring at what’s beyond.  
  
“Raul and Veronica owe me twenty caps,” so Six did see her. Cass watches her as she turns around, the eyebot making a few little beeps before it leaves the two of them. “They were convinced you’d wear your hat, despite Veronica saying it’d clash with the outfit.”  
  
Cass touches her dress as if she were fixing it, but it’s just nerves. “Yeah, well, kind of wish I did.”

“You look great.” At that compliment, Cass looks at Six, who’s wearing a dress herself, just as fancy as hers but with a bit more flare. “Glad I left the clothing choices to Veronica.” Six offers her hand out, Cass walking towards her, taking it.  
  
“You’re not exactly wearing a brahmin hide sack yourself.” That joke earns her a laugh and a kiss on the cheek.  
  
“It would’ve been a lot easier to get on and off.” At least her dress feels comfortable, but on sight alone, Six’s looks like it has to be peeled off.  
  
“Thinking about getting it off already, huh?” Cass only catches her unintentional innuendo after she says that, but she can tell Six picks it up before the literal meaning.  
  
“Yours and mine,” Cass sighs just a little, knowing she set herself up for that one. “But I’ll treat you like a proper lady tonight -- dinner, drinks, and conversation first.”  
  
“Thinking about manners now? That’s a change.” It’s just another line Cass uses to transition the conversation, but what Six says is a grim reminder even with all the glitter and glam surrounding them.  
  
“Responsibility and large armies have that effect on me.” Six jokes back, but the underlying message is ominous and foreboding. “Come on, let’s see how much food I can stuff myself without getting stuck in this thing.” But then that flash of the woman Cass first met shines through, and that makes her smile and follow her.  
  
Cass isn’t sure how Six set this all out. Not that Cass thinks she’s lacking the resources, but more like it’s so _picture_ ideal. It seems like something Vault City snobs would do for a romantic evening (the food is probably the envy of Vault City, too).  
  
There’s subtle background music, a table set up in front of the large view of the illuminated Strip. The well-stocked bar is the backdrop, and she can tell it’s been recently restocked and cleaned up. The lighting is dimmer in the room itself, which adds this private and soft atmosphere that is foreign to what she knows about the penthouse.  
  
“The brahmin’s from a town called Modoc.” Their current conversation isn’t the most thrilling and deepest thing they’ve talked about, but it’s pleasant. It feels so… normal, which is strange but unexpectedly pleasing (a little normal and peace never hurt anyone until their hands went idle and boredom takes over).  
  
“I’ve been there a few times; it’s way up north, but a popular and reliable place to do business since it’s close to Vault City and New Arroyo.” While the amenities of Vault City are always nice, she has her own bias against that place.  
  
“Have you been there?” She’s asked as she cuts into her brahmin steak seeing that it’s perfectly cooked.  
  
“A few times. It’s no Hub or New Reno, but it’s got traction and decent goods. It’s a good place to clear your head and unwind from all the bullshit of Vault City protocols and tariffs.” Recalling these things reminds her of her not-so-long ago caravaneer days, and she wonders if she’ll ever travel like that again.  
  
“Ah,” the short response by Six doesn’t appease her very much. She continues to eat normally while Cass is the one who’s probably re-butchering her brahmin steak by playing with her food so much.  
  
“Don’t tell me you’re actually interested in me blabbing about this?” It’s an informative way of talking, opening up, but it’s unnatural for them. Usually, it’s Six bleeding and her drinking that causes them to open up, bites and kisses on unclothed body parts works well too.  
  
“It puts things into perspective.” Cass knows those vague answers aren’t a good thing, especially when it’s something that can either end a conversation or lead to more questions that make her think too much.  
  
“What sort of things?” A few months ago, Cass would’ve let the conversation end there, letting it go. Now? She’s damned because she cares.  
  
“You.” Six says that one word powerfully, but she makes no big deal of it, putting another piece of medium-rare and well seasoned brahmin steak in her mouth.  
  
She wants to say something, but her mind and mouth are fumbling at trying to express how she feels. It’s too conflicted, too complicated, but Six looks fine with that. In fact, the woman in front her smiles and finishes off a shot of Old World whiskey in her honor.

(Desert roses do not need thorns as they are made from rocks and mother nature's twisted sense of humor)  
  
Cass gets the chance to peel Six out of her dress, successful kissing taking a back seat to getting clothing off. After a few kisses down her neck, Six stops, her hand moving up as she holds Cass’ pendant in her palm.  
  
“Putting things into perspective again?” It’s her way of showing while she’s impatient to get things going, she’ll indulge Six in this very intimate moment; couples in love do these things with each other. Six and vulnerable are things that don’t go together often, but this time Cass can’t think of any other word.  
  
“Yeah,” Six exhales out, letting go of the pendant to kiss and feel her again.  
  
Cass isn’t sure what’s next, but being two old ladies retiring near Vault City sounds like something she’d like to do. That’s when Cass realizes she’s in love with her, that she’s in it for the long haul and Six has given her a new perspective on things, on them.


	18. The Great Pretender (Arcade + ED-E)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Endangered"

Arcade hasn't seen an eyebot in ten years or so, not since he left the Boneyard where a few remain in the hands of the Followers. He can't remember what the ones in Navarro looked like, but he remembers them there. He does remember Daisy telling him about the eyebots in the vertibird garage giving them updates and playing 'catchy tunes' to keep them inspired.  
  
He's cautious around ED-E not because of it solely being a robot, but because seeing anything with Enclave roots is rare these days. It's like a creature that's never seen another of its kind finally seeing it's not alone. Arcade sees a reminder of the Enclave in ED-E, an endangered remnant like himself.  
  
Arcade didn't kidnap entire towns and use them as test subjects, nor did ED-E, but they're both associated with that legacy. He figures in time the Mojave is going to wipe out their existence one way or the other, but for now, it seems the both of them will be sticking by a courier who knows nothing about their past ties.  
  
After all, Arcade rather not burst Six's bubble by saying their favorite robot pet was widely used by a fascist military dictatorship that wanted to commit mass genocide. It kind of kills the moment and the start of two budding relationships.


	19. I Can Dream, Can’t I? (M!Courier/Ulysses)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "coming home"

It's been almost six months since he's gone to the Divide. He saw Christine a few months ago, and the Sierra Madre still haunts him like an Old World ghost that still has a few more stories to tell. Six is much more comfortable in the Big Empty, but Christine once told him that place is filled with poltergeists of humanity's depravity. He can't exactly disagree with what she's saying because it's true.  
  
If the Sierra Madre is a wandering ghost trapped in a cycle, the Big Empty is a poltergeist of humanity's greatest sins, then the Divide is the restless spirit that doesn't know it's dead. All three of them carry the symbol of the place they reside over, symbols of the Old World changed.  
  
Six walks towards a sitting Ulysses who doesn't even move to look at him. The fire Ulysses has for himself is small but strong enough for warmth and reheating food.  
  
"Back again and again. Answers, questions... no, something else." He's right about that. "Reassurance, that's why you came." Six sits next to him, removing his gas mask. "Lost? No, you wouldn't come here if you were." He lets Ulysses think out loud, not interrupting him just yet. "This lapse is longer. The last time it was only a few months."  
  
"So you keep track of how long since I've seen you." The radiation is heavier here, even for someone who's used to it. Laughing stings at the lungs, especially since where he stays in the Big Empty is most likely the most sterile environment in the west. He's been there too long, gotten too soft.  
  
"You went to see her." Even if the conversation is cryptic on Ulysses' side, he's able to follow along because they both know where he went before he ended up here.  
  
"I did. I have promises to keep, and seeing her knocks two of 'em out at once." A promise to Veronica and a promise to Christine, ones not fully formed, but enough said. "She can take care of herself, but I figure once in a while she gets lonely. Not that she'd admit it, not that either of you would admit it, true or not." There's also the fact Christine was there when he went through the hell of the Sierra Madre, he helped kill Elijah. Seeing her helps him move on, to let go.  
  
"You come here because you want to, just like you go to her, for your own needs." Six frowns a little as Ulysses makes him sound rather selfish (true or not).  
  
"When you put it that way, you make me sound terrible." That frown doesn't last too long as he smiles again. "Fine, secret's out, I do like seeing you two once in a while."  
  
"It's not a secret, it's rationalization." Ulysses always figures him out so quickly in such few words. He wonders if it's because they're both couriers or what happened between them, everything, formed an incomparable understanding.  
  
"Maybe," he hates the Sierra Madre, and the Divide still makes him feel a sense of guilt like nothing has before. Not that he can remember anything before Benny shot him in the head, but he's killed plenty and fucked over plenty of people and didn't feel this level of guilt.  
  
"Have you found home yet? Last time we spoke of it, you knew of it yet you did not know where it was." The question is how he knows Ulysses cares in his own way, something more beyond two couriers.  
  
"Maybe," he repeats, maybe taunting Ulysses with also being vague and cryptic. "If I said this was my home, too, would you welcome me home?"  
  
"So this isn't your home." He's starting to really get annoyed with how Ulysses picks up little details when he's trying to be clever.  
  
"Home can be a thing, even a person, can't it?" Is this a red herring, him derailing Ulysses? Or maybe he truly does want to know the answer.  
  
"Maybe," he doesn't expect that disappointing answer, hoping it would be something much longer and winded, musing out loud. "That's for you to figure out. I know my home, my place. Home is personal, something that cannot just be told with words, but felt without intended grasping."  
  
Six thinks on these words, looking at the gas mask in his hands. Nothing is said between them for what feels like ten minutes. It's possible ten minutes passed, maybe more or less.  
  
"Navarro," His tone is somber, a clear break from the game Six was playing from before. "That chip was from there, created there." The chip he's speaking about is the one that brought the Divide into utter nuclear destruction. "That damn chip started everything."  
  
"So that's the starting point you pick. Not me, not the Bear, not the man who shot you in the head." He can see Ulysses evaluate how plausible his theory is. "Logic like that, you could trace it back to the thing that made you a courier."  
  
"Gotta set a point somewhere, and this one's easier." Tracking down how or why he became a courier is probably impossible even with his resources.  
  
"Manifested there in Navarro, in the chip, but I told you, home doesn't need to be a starting point nor an ending point."  
  
"Maybe I should go there, then. You returned to the Divide, going there might do it."  
  
"It might, but you're chasing shadows of the Old World there." Six laughs at that because that's what he's been doing ever since he woke up that one October day.  
  
"Chasing them to out run them, not to cling to them, to let them go." Ulysses is still here, still stuck in the Divide's shadow. "You can run with me, too." The gesture is sincere, and he's asked Ulysses to come with him to the Big Empty, or give him a place anywhere he wants in New Vegas.  
  
Yet before Ulysses answers, he knows it'll be a no. "My place is here; I don't run anymore, chase shadows. I am under the shadow of the Divide where I belong, where I'll stay."  
  
"She said the same thing too, you know." He's asked Christine the same thing, but she still wants to stay in the Sierra Madre. "Not the same words, you're better with words than she is." Ulysses' has a unique style, one that Six found elegant in a way. No one talks like Ulysses and it makes him stand out.  
  
"Find your home, Courier Six, then you'll understand." In that brief moment, their eyes look into each other's, and Six doesn't think about the Divide. He thinks about just Ulysses, no distractions.  
  
Maybe he did come home, but he can't bring home back with him -- it's stuck in the Divide.


	20. Sentimental Journey (M!Sole Survivor/Danse)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "That’s how I ended up standing naked on the Brooklyn Bridge on Christmas Eve"

"And that’s how I ended up standing naked on the Brooklyn Bridge on Christmas Eve.” Nate finishes the story, or well, it seems that way. Danse doesn’t reply right away, unsure of what to make of it.  
  
He awkwardly looks towards Dogmeat, like somehow the dog can give insight into what he should do. Eventually, he does, but he doesn’t look Nate in the eye. Instead, he looks at the plasma rifle Nate has been repairing for the past twenty minutes or so.  
  
“That’s, um.” This is supposed to be casual, friendly, and laid back as Nate said earlier. They’re not supposed to be knight and paladin here, but Danse can’t do that, he doesn’t know how to do that entirely. He assumes Nate could understand, the man being involved in the army and being a translator. Yet what he read in military manuals and seen in the archival footage the Brotherhood had collected has only helped him a little bit to understand the other man.  
  
When Nate tells him stories of his time in the military, they are not of battles and tactics, but instead about the people and his time spent with them off duty. He can understand why Nate does that, as it’s a comfort thing; it’s better to think of fallen brothers in arms that way than recalling pressing a wound down with your hand only to see their eyes gloss over and know they’re dying right in front of you.  
  
These precious stories, even if they make Danse confused and embarrassed, are fragments of trust from Nate.  
  
“Thank you for sharing, even if I am amazed your ranking officer let you get away with such conduct and I hope you don’t do something like that under my supervision.” Apparently, he’s made a joke or there’s something humorous about his delivery or words.  
  
Nate laughs but stops to speak, the edges of his mouth still smiling. “I’ve calmed down since then; being a decade older and seeing the actual front line in Anchorage does a number on you,” Nate mutters something in what Danse has been informed is Mandarin. Though, there have been cases where Danse assumes it has been Mandarin and Nate has said Cantonese.  
  
“The words you muttered,” Danse knows Nate well enough that when he speaks other languages besides English, there’s a strong emotional attachment. Maybe it’s a way of Nate protecting himself and being cautious; his voice sounds like he’s reliving a memory that isn’t as happy as the ones he usually shares with him. “May I ask for a translation?” Sometimes Nate provides him with a translation, sometimes he doesn’t have time to ask as distractions occur. Yet they’re sitting together in an old gas station turned power armor garage, sitting together as Nate fixes a recovered plasma rifle.  
  
“It’s a saying, words of wisdom to be more exact.” For a moment Danse thinks Nate will just leave it out that, but instead he sighs and stops working on the plasma rifle. “The longer the night lasts, the more dreams we’ll have. Sounds like it’d be something good, right? But no, it’s not.” That last part actually surprises him, even if he’s told a few knights to stop daydreaming and get back to work. “It means a person can be stuck in what’s comfortable without paying attention to what’s really going on. Or it could mean not moving on will lead to being in a bad place in life.” With the meaning of the line explained, Nate’s tone when he first said it makes more sense now. “If I stay stuck in those memories, I’ll be stuck with them, in a world that doesn’t exist anymore.” Nate’s speech is slower as if he were considering every word carefully. “In a world that doesn’t have you.”  
  
What can he say to that? Well, he could say something, but he’s nowhere as good with words as Nate is. But before he can properly address what Nate said, he feels a hand on his shoulder.  
  
“So let’s make some good memories in this world, huh? Maybe not naked ones on a bridge, but maybe having a few slightly irradiated beers on the Prydwen or taking a stroll with Dogmeat without feral ghouls or raiders ruining the moment.” A pause. “Unless you want to do the whole naked on a bridge on Christmas Eve thing. I won’t stop you, I think Deacon and Hancock would encourage me to have you do that.”  
  
“No thank you.” Danse’s tone goes back to that of a commanding officer rather than a friend, and Nate’s expression changes. He regrets his tone, knowing he’s shifted the conversation. Yet he had such a visceral reaction to hearing how the Railroad spy and the chem loaded mayor of rejects would want him to be naked on a bridge. “I mean, I would like to do the other things with you, the ones you previously mentioned.” This time he doesn’t sound like he’s barking out an order, instead, he sounds unsure and unprotected.  
  
“Then how about now? Me, Dogmeat, and you without wearing all that power armor.” Danse’s facial reaction must have given away his thoughts before he gets to say. “Fine, keep the power armor on this time. But next time, I’ll pry it off myself if I have to.”  
  
This memory is supposed to be for Nate, but Danse comes to realized it might be a good thing for him too.


	21. C'est Si Bon (F!Sole Survivor/Curie)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " Shawn has really taken a shine to his second mom because she's a scientist and he totally wants to be a scientist too when he grows up."

The Commonwealth still is not a peaceful place, but from where Nora is sitting, it feels like one of those shows she used to watch on the TV with the ideal family being happy as can be. She watches as Curie and Shaun interact through a window, the both of them singing a French nursery rhyme. Curie's hands move around, matching the words to the song, Shaun copying her, looking so happy. This is her family now and the Commonwealth is her home.  
  
Curie gives Shaun a kiss on the forehead and a pat on top of his head before she leaves him, walking over to the house Nora is in.  
  
"And you were worried Shaun wouldn't like you." She greets Curie with a brief kiss and a little smile.  
  
"He is a remarkable boy, and I see so much of you in him. Yet at the same time, he is distinctive enough that he is uniquely someone else entirely." The fascination in Curie's voice goes beyond just scientific curiosity, she knows that, but the awe of life.  
  
"He is pretty special, but that'd be stating the obvious." Shaun has become special to her, this Shaun anyway. Nora sees him as her son, but it'd be unfair and cruel of her to think of him as a replacement. "And speaking of stating the obvious, and here you were worried he wouldn't like you."  
  
"I still worry." Curie is put on the defensive, but Nora doesn't intend to be mean about it. "I know you reassured me that he would warm up to me, but I still worry because I never had first-hand experience with children."  
  
"He loves you, and he loves it when you spend time with him. From French lessons to building things together, he looks happy, like he's a part of a family." Nora sees how Curie blushes slightly at the mention of family, Nora taking Curie's right hand into hers. "I'm glad I have this chance at having a family with the two of you." She kisses Curie, tender and slow, taking her time because she knows Curie isn't going to lose her.  
  
They only stop kissing due to Curie ending it, putting two fingers on Nora's lips. "Your kisses are still my number one reason for being distracted and forgetting things." If this were anyone else but Curie, Nora wouldn't see it amusing or cute. "I came to tell you Shaun and I need supplies for our next project, and I promised to get him them, but I will need your help." Curie removes her fingers from Nora's lips, looking rather determined to stay focused.  
  
"Sure, I can help. Maybe Sturges has what we need lying around, and if not, I can take Dogmeat and do a quick search for what's needed." Curie looks like Nora's said everything she wanted to hear.  
  
"I would love to go with you, but I need to prepare for the upcoming project." Curie digs her free hand into one her pockets, handing Nora a small piece of paper. "Here is the list, and possible places they might be or sold."  
  
Nora looks over the list, seeing a few things she knows and a few things she should know from college chemistry. "Got it." Luckily most of the places are within a day's reach and she's traveled through or near them. "I'll head out tomorrow with Dogmeat or Nick."  
  
"Thank you, my love." Curie kisses her on the cheek. "Just make sure you keep all the chemicals in containers and separated from each other. I rather not have the experiment take place without Shaun and me present."  
  
"Is that you subtly warning me that these chemicals are dangerous?" She trusts Curie that these chemicals wouldn't hurt either of them or expose Shaun to any danger, but by their names, she's guessing they're not fifth-grade science project level.  
  
"Do not let the names fool you, but if mixed, in an environment not controlled, it is hard to say what external variables could do. So please, be cautious and mindful." She can tell Curie is worried about her, her safety, especially now they're starting to live as a family.  
  
"I'll be careful, but it's the super mutants, feral ghouls, or raiders I'll have to watch out for the most, probably." Also known as her Daily Routine.  
  
It takes a few days for her to gather everything, and it's Hancock instead of Nick who helps her out. Hancock actually offered, curious to see what sort of things Curie is going to be doing with what they gathered.  
  
When she returns back to Sanctuary, Shaun runs up to her, embracing her with a warm hug. Hancock has to wait a minute or so before he can give Shaun a high five, calling him a little man ("But I'm not little, I'm just the right size for my age, right, mom?"). Nora is then dragged by Shaun to Curie, seeing an outside laboratory where there was once some scrap metal.  
  
"My love, you have returned! I knew you would return safely, but I still worried." Curie is wearing a lab coat and protective eye wear, but even so, gives Nora a welcoming kiss. "The preparations are almost complete, and everyone around Sanctuary has been helping us."  
  
Nora looks around, seeing Sturges and a few of the residents finishing up around there. "This is quite impressive."  
  
"I helped convince everyone to pitch in, mom, but Curie did most of the work. She's really awesome, and I'm so glad she's my mom now." An excited noise comes from Curie, who soon bends down and kisses Shaun's cheek. "Aww, mom… you promised to warn me."  
  
"You'll get used to her surprising you with kisses, trust me." Nora winks at Curie even though she's talking to Shaun.  
  
After unloading the brahmin carefully, Shaun and Curie make quick work of the gathered supplies. Nora didn't find the scavenger hunt too hard, and she knows it'll pay off. She does, however, need to change out of this armor and into some regular clothes.  
  
After changing, Shaun is now wearing safety and protective gear, and everything looks set up. Nora gives them a little wave, sitting on a bench that's across the street from their outside lab.  
  
"Our first experiment, p-nitroaniline's reaction with concentrated sulfuric acid," Curie announces, and anyone nearby goes to look towards the two of them.  
  
Nora's keeps her eyes on Shaun who pours one of those two ingredients into each other (possibly the sulfuric acid if she remembers the container correctly). He looks like he's ready for anything, beyond eager to see what will happen. It's Curie who makes sure he is safe though, keeping Shaun from sticking his head directly over the container.  
  
Within seconds, a cloud of gray smoke fills the air, and a black pillar emerges out of the bucket that is at least eight feet tall. Nora thinks it's going to fall over, possibly break, but it doesn't. She can hear Shaun yelling the word awesome, obviously very excited by this experiment.  
  
Nora claps her hands together. "Bravo! Go science!" She laughs as she cheers them on, but she knows she picked up more than just those two chemicals.  
  
"We're not done yet!" Curie goes over to a huge vat, one that looks welded by Sturges. "Our last experiment, hydrogen peroxide and potassium iodide!" Both Shaun and Curie pour in each of the chemicals using a bucket, and within seconds, white foam starts rising into the air, flying all over Sanctuary.  
  
There's foam all over the houses, in people's hair, on the crops… it has gotten everywhere. Nora even feels some land on her own head. She laughs, wiping off some of the foam from her hair. She was expecting one of those minor explosion she did in high school chemistry, not an actual explosion that covered one-third of Sanctuary in white foam. At least Shaun and Curie look happy, even Sturges and Hancock, but the others look like they want to have a word with her (which is worth it if those two are having fun).  
  
If this is a new family past time for all of them, she's glad she has Curie and Shaun in her life, explosions and scientific surprises included.


	22. Swinging On A Star (Christine + Boone, Christine/Veronica, & M!Courier/Boone)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "AU in which Christine makes it back to the Mojave and Veronica. I'd love to see her hit it off with Boone through respect for each other's skills."

Veronica framed it to her as 'a fun reunion', smiling with her eyes when she brought it up to Christine. It had only been a few months since they were reunited by their mutual favorite mailman (favorite only because he killed Elijah, but she appreciates Ulysses a bit more in other areas). It has only been a couple of weeks since Christine finally allowed herself and Veronica another shot at being together.  
  
Returning to the Big Empty isn't what she ever wanted to do – too many bad memories, even more than the Sierra Madre. Maybe Veronica could see she needed some time to herself, and Christine's glad they still have that connection and understanding after everything. Maybe in time, she'll tell Veronica more details about her time here, but for now, she's doing some target practice from that one guard tower watching over Little Yangtze.  
  
There is still some lobotomites leftover from the Think Tank's regime, but they are far less now that Six has taken this place as his own. Seeing their scars, it reminds her of what she faced here, reminds her of _him_.  
  
She fires a shot at a cazador but misses it. She bites her lip, pretending her frustration is due to her missing the shot rather than her thoughts returning to Elijah. She reloads, this time making sure she takes her time to align the shot, factor in wind, and control her breathing.  
  
Yet before she can fire, she watches the cazador fall to the ground through her scope. She knows the bug died by a gunshot, far range. She's not sure who else is out here, but once in a while, the Big Empty does attract unique visitors to say the least.  
  
Christine eventually uses her scope to look at her surroundings, knowing sound could be misleading in this case. It doesn't take too long as she still remembers the optimal look out and sniper nests around here, and in one of them, she sees a man wearing a red beret (she's rusty with identification markers, but it looks NCR to her).  
  
Like any competent sniper, now that she sees him, he sees her. They look at each other through their scopes, not moving, but looking like they're locked onto each other. Christine feels herself smirking, breaking the contact so she can shoot a cazador that was in the corner of her eye.  
  
It's risky she took that shot, a possibility that he would think she was shooting at him. The risk pays off, to say because another cazador falls to the ground, a one shot kill.  
  
So he wants to play? Or show off. Either way, Christine is up for more target practice and removing one of the most annoying things to come out of the Big Empty (and that's saying something).  
  
Christine is usually good at keeping tracking of time, she had to learn it during her pursuit, _no_ , hunt, of Elijah. Yet she lets the sense of time go as her and this mysterious NCR sniper take out the cazadores and bloatflies. This welcomed distraction is exactly what she needed, and she doesn't feel like stopping until she's out of bullets.  
  
She's almost out of bullets when she hears the screech of the loud speaker echo across the Big Empty, broadcasting. She feels for a second she'll hear Doctor Klein spout out nonsense, but instead, she hears a much more welcomed voice. “And the winner is Christine! Not that I doubted you, babe, but it was a close call. I was cheering for you one hundred percent, powerfist in the air and yelling at full lung capacity.”  
  
“They were watching us,” Christine mutters to herself, not at all surprised by finding this out. She's not sure if it is Six's or Veronica's idea to watch them and or make a game out of it. It seems like something Veronica would do, cheering her on behind the scenes.  
  
When she goes to look at her fellow competitor, he is no longer in his sniper nest. She concludes he must have slipped away while she was distracted by listening to Veronica. Since he's no longer there, Christine decides to call it a day and head back to the central base.  
  
Veronica greets her outside the elevator to the Sink, a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Did you have fun?” She asks, Christine nodding.  
  
“It was good to let off a little steam, and it's been a while since I've had a good target practice session.” She's mostly worked alone, been alone ever since she joined the Circle of Steel up until she met Six.  
  
“You're shooting has gotten a lot better, better than mine ever will.” Veronica takes her hand, urging her to walk beside her.  
  
“That's because you're much better at close combat.” Christine gives a soft smile. “I prefer a little distance under most circumstances.” Veronica has always been more of the outspoken one with people, speaking her mind more than she ever did. Personal space is a comfort for her, something she's possibly relied on too long now for it to be healthy.  
  
“Up close and personal, that's me.” Veronica laughs, and Christine has a feeling she's picked up on the double meaning of her earlier words.  
  
After taking the elevator up, there's no sign of Six, but the Sink is as rambunctious as ever. A small securitron rolls into the room, stopping right in from of them.  
  
“Please, _please!_ You promised me this time!” The strange little robot says to them, but mostly focusing on Veronica.  
  
“Of course little guy.” Veronica takes out a few mugs, kneeling down. “Use them wisely.”  
  
The little securitron looks like it's going to explode from a circuit overload, greedily grabbing and taking away the presented mugs, chanting hastily 'thank you' before running away from them.  
  
“I feel sorry for him sometimes, but at least he gets really happy about mugs.” Veronica mentioned how strange the Sink and its inhabitants are, but it fits well with who runs this place. “Have you met Toaster?” Christine shakes her head. “ _Oh_ , well, just wait until you do.” Veronica laughs like she already knows the outcome of their future exchange if it happens. “And the Light Switches, they're terrible flirts, but in the best way-” She stops mid sentence, the elevator's opening distracting her. “Boone! There you are, and all geared up, too.” She walks towards him, looking like she has something up her powerfist. “I have to say, the hat really does complete the whole getup.”  
  
Christine looks at Boone and notices that beret (and that he's clearly high ranking NCR). He must have been the one who she played a few rounds of target practice with. He doesn't look nearly as receptive and excited as Veronica does. They make eye contact briefly, an acknowledgment before his attention is pulled away by Veronica.  
  
“Six wanted me to pass a message along to you.” She teases him, and his stern face softens, but only for a few seconds. “And he was really hoping you'd beat Christine.”  
  
“She's a good shot.” Boone looks at her, and with a nod, she gives him a silent thank you.  
  
“Just a good shot?” He looks confused as if he's unsure what else Veronica is trying to get him to say or do. “It's good you're not a sore loser, or maybe you're good at hiding it, hmm?” It's like watching an older sister tease her younger brother.  
  
“You said Six had something to tell me?” That change in subject saves him, at least temporarily.  
  
“Right, right.” Veronica can tell he's dodging. “He said you can put your gear in his room, in the empty locker with the bear painted on it.”  
  
He nods at her. “Thanks.” Then starts walking away, probably towards that room, but Veronica grabs his arm.  
  
“Hey, it's been... what, a good year since we last saw each other? More than that since we had some actual time to sit and talk – not since before Hoover Dam.” Even Christine knows that's been several years now, and she knows how fondly Veronica looks back on those days traveling with Six.  
  
Veronica talks Boone into sitting down, mostly her prying into his life. Christine mostly stays quiet unless she's brought into the conversation. They shake hands when Veronica formally introduces her, but besides that, it's mostly Veronica talking and Boone answering with as few words and details as possible.  
  
Christine learns he's a First Recon sniper, joining back up sometime after Hoover Dam. He's off on leave, this time spending it here rather than picking off slavers. Veronica tells him she's been living at the Sierra Madre (yes, that Sierra Madre) with her and occasionally has been Big Empty's babysitter when Six is away.  
  
Luckily, as soon as the questions start becoming more personal, the Sink's elevator opens again, this time a ghoul emerging from it.  
  
“Veronica, you there?” Christine looks at him, he's wearing a mechanic's outfit, grease stains all over the jumpsuit. She hasn't seen a ghoul since Dean Domino.  
  
“Heya, Raul.” She waves at the ghoul, drawing his attention towards her. “I'm here with Boone, too.” Christine looks at Boone, and he looks less on alert, tense, now.  
  
“Boss needs you. His giant robot scorpion is acting up again – probably its programming since I've spent most of the day on it without doing much.” Raul looks at Boone, another nod to show they know each other. “Good to see you, Boone. Boss mentioned you might be coming here when you got leave.”  
  
“He talked me into it.” Christine sees Boone almost smile, his voice sounding much more casual, his response most likely a half lie. “I'll never get used to this place.” He can say that again as Christine feels exactly the same way but for very different reasons.  
  
“I don't think any of us but Boss will ever get used to this place.” Raul scratches the back of his head.

  
“It's got endearing qualities to it, sort of. If you like your robots Old World style of being unhinged, unpredictable, and over the top.” Christine knows Veronica enjoys the place to a certain degree, but she knows that Veronica could get lost in Old War tech and science for hours on end if left alone long enough (maybe that's why Elijah picked her as one of his proteges).  
  
“Boss' giant robot scorpion is more than slightly and unhinged and unpredictable. It's in full blown Seek and Destroy mode.” That comment by Raul seems to make Veronica even more excited.  
  
“Well, time to take down a giant robot scorpion. Just what I always wanted to do since I was a little girl.” It's then Veronica must have realized Boone and Christine would be left alone. “Uh, I'll be back soon. Play nice you two. Maybe talk about sniper things? Or just stare at each other for a long time. That'd work too.” Veronica gives her a peck on the cheek before she leaves the two of them alone in the Sink, Raul taking her to wherever this giant robot scorpion is.  
  
The cheek that Veronica kissed still feels warm and the awkwardness between her and Boone is growing. For a while they are quiet, staring at each other once in a while. They were a lot more comfortable when the two of them were shooting at something.  
  
“Your gun,” it's Boone who breaks the silence between them. “He carried it around for a while.” She's guessing he's talking about Six. “Good craftsmanship, and you modified it yourself.”  
  
“You still remember it?” She takes her sniper rifle out, displaying it, but still keeping it close to her.  
  
“Yeah. It's not a common sniper rifle, nothing close to NCR issued. It's memorable.”  
  
“I received it when I earned my rank into the Circle of Steel.” She hasn't even told Veronica that. “And yes, I did modify it myself.” She's glad they're easing into a conversation. “You have a knack for this sort of thing, don't you?” She notices his gun, the main body of it looking very weathered.  
  
“I know enough.” She knows he's underselling himself. “I saw a few guns similar to yours carried by some lucky recon guys who got them from Helios.” At the mention of Helios, she freezes briefly, her body tensing. She looks away, quieter. Her thoughts go to Elijah, at the mess he made and what came after.  
  
She expects him to give her a weird look, but instead, he looks like he understands. Without saying anything, it's like he's telling her he gets it, that it's fine she has unresolved issues and he won't pry. Or it's possibly just Christine reading too much into this new stranger, something she's done once in a while. Either way, she can appreciate whatever is happening.  
  
“I,” she starts the conversation again. “I'll show you mine if you show me yours?” She offers her sniper rifle, slowly, still somewhat guarded.  
  
Boone doesn't react right away, and so she thinks she'll be turned down, but he nods. “Here.” He offers his gun, and it's even more worn out than she thought.  
  
The exchange of guns feels very personal, and it is. She can really understand Boone by looking at this gun, how it's held together, so worn but taken care of. It has seen better days, but it seems to be having the time of its life now too.  
  
“Thank you.” She gives back his gun, and she receives her gun back with the exchange. She knows it takes a good amount of trust to share one's gun like that. After all, you can tell a lot by a person by what gun and weapon they use, especially their favorite.  
  
She smiles at him and he smiles back at her, and Christine is glad things went this smoothly. Six does seem to have a habit of bringing all sorts of people together.  
  
It's only a minute or so later Veronica comes back up to the Sink, Six behind her. “We did it! And it only took a few good punches and ten thousand lines of code to solve the problem.” Veronica goes to her side, kissing her on the other side of the cheek. “How did the two of you do alone?”  
  
“Fine.” Boone and Christine reply, almost at the same time. Veronica and Six both catch that, laughing at their timing.  
  
“Glad you made it here, Christine.” Six says to her, giving her a little wave as he speaks. “Or more like Veronica finally got through to you because I repeatedly failed.”  
  
“Well, it's not like I am against you visiting the Sierra Madre.” Christine teases him, trying to regain some power over the conversation that she lost earlier.  
  
Six whines at that like a child. “You and Ulysses say the same damn thing, you know that? Let me tell you, the Sierra Madre is still not a fun place, sorry to say.”  
  
“Yeah, but the company makes up for it, right?” Veronica interjects, goading him.  
  
“Company can only be convincing to a certain extent.” It seems Six has lost this one and knows it. “Speaking of company...” He walks over to Boone, placing a hand on his shoulders. “Sorry I tested your patience today. It seems everything around here went haywire the day you arrived.”  
  
“And you wonder why I don't like this place.” Six frowns at Christine when she says that, but his attention goes back to Boone.  
  
“I'll make it up to you, how about that?” He nudges Boone, who looks embarrassed by that question and promise. “I know I'm pushing it by asking you to come here on your leave.”  
  
“Six was telling me all about your honeymoon in New Reno, how he won a boxing competition in your honor! Then you went to Vault City and-” Veronica is only stopped when Boone interrupts her with a firm 'no'. “Wait-!” Six is laughing, and it seems she's been tricked.  
  
Veronica goes over to him, punching him in his shoulder. “I knew it was fake when you were telling me how Vault City gave you a free house after you helped restore power to it by going to some town filled with ghouls! And the whole 'putting a ring in his beret' thing too!” Everyone but Veronica looks amused, Christine chuckling and Boone smiling at how she believed him.  
  
“ _Sorry_ , sorry, sorry!” Six repeats hastily, rubbing where Veronica hit him. “But the ring in the beret thing is true, really, ask Boone.” Now that the attention is back on Boone, he doesn't look as amused.  
  
“That did happen.” Veronica's anger passes, now feeling like she's on the path to hearing a good story.  
  
“And? You just can't leave it like that! You have to tell the story, one of you, right now.” She looks at both Six and Boone and then makes a clarification. “I rather have it from you, Boone, because Six needs to regain my trust.”  
  
“Ouch.” Yet enough of Veronica's wrath remains, Six feeling that one.  
  
“It was a joke. That's all. Nothing else to say.” Boone shut down that down quickly, Veronica looking even more disappointed now.  
  
“I won the match between us,” Christine really does want to hear how this happened, and it would make Veronica happy. “I get a prize, don't I? I want to hear the story.”  
  
“She did win, Boone. And if you let Six tell it, he's probably going to exaggerate until the bighorns come home.” Veronica makes her point, trying to persuade him.  
  
“Fine.” Christine isn't sure if he caves due to him honoring her win or because of Veronica saying Six would make things worse.  
  
“He's going to leave out all the best details.” Six sighs into his words.  
  
“You mean he'll tell the truth.” Veronica glares at Six but then her attention goes back to Boone. “So, the story. Ring in the beret, you and Six.”  
  
“I was on leave a few months back. He stole my hat after we had some drinks with Cass. He put a ring in it, I woke up, took it back, and then he started rambling until he fell back asleep.” Maybe Six should have told the story as it wasn't compelling or entertaining at all.  
  
“Like I said, left out all the details.” Six looks pleased with himself, probably knowing this would happen. “Cass says hi, by the way, Veronica. I forgot to mention that.”  
  
“Tell her I say hi and that we should hang out soon, all of us.” Veronica gestures with her right hand that she's counting everyone. “That's if only if you tell us what happened, the truth that is.”  
  
“Well, it all started in Shady Sands, and I was on a very tight schedule to find a water chip for my-” Six only gets so far before Veronica calls him out.  
  
“So you're the Vault Dweller now?” Christine knows that story, the Circle of Steel having some documents about what happened.  
  
“Fine, but it did start in Shady Sands.” He rewinds the story. “ _So anyway_...”  
  
Maybe making memories like these here will help Christine not see the Big Empty as being a place just with bad scars and old wounds.


	23. For Sentimental Reasons (Cait/Curie)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Cait/Cruie. Hurt/Comfort. Cait comforts."

It happens so quickly, the front row of teeth of a deathclaw is so close to her face that she can smell its breath and theorize what possible bacteria is making it smell in such a way. She doesn't think she is going to die, but she knows a surge of adrenaline and several other chemicals in her brain are reacting to this situation.  
  
If she breaks it down in a biological manner, she wonders if it will relieve the eventual anxiety and panic she will feel within ten to twenty seconds from this very moment. She'd close her eyes, but her requests are secondary to reflexes. Her lungs are taking in as much oxygen as they can, knowing something is coming.  
  
But it doesn’t come, the deathclaw being punched away from her. She’s still on the floor, her body still on edge. She notices the person that punched the deathclaw is Cait, who looks quite angry at the deathclaw. Besides just the punching, the cursing and name calling Cait is shouting at the deathclaw is a giveaway. Curie laughs, and she doesn’t wonder why, letting it happen in the moment.  
  
“You need to watch yourself more closely out there instead of getting lost in your head with all that sciency stuff.” Cait sits next to her, looking over her arm that was scratched by the deathclaw. “You just that pretty body of yours not so long ago, so try not to die on me.”  
  
“I’m sorry, mademoiselle Cait.” She feels embarrassed and guilty for what happened, and being scolded by Cait makes her reflect that getting that close to a deathclaw nest wasn’t the best decision ever.  
  
“Mad- no, don’t use that thing like you do with Nora.” Cait sounds almost too defensive to Curie when she says that.  
  
“What thing?” Has she done something wrong? She’s still learning about Cait, who’s still very puzzling and confusing to her at times.  
  
“Using that word.” Did she upset Cait? She doesn’t sound angry, she knows what an angry Cait sounds like, but possibly frustrated.  
  
“Mademoiselle?” Curie blinks still confused at why Cait could possibly take offense to it.  
  
“Yes. It’s too fancy and pretentious for the likes of me.” Curie can barely understand her as the words are mumbled.  
  
“But you are a mademoiselle! You are beautiful, strong, and kind in your own way even if you don’t like admitting it.” Cait doesn’t look at Curie anymore, instead focusing on the injury on Curie’s arm.  
  
“This is going to sting, maybe, I don’t know how that synth body of yours is going to take this.” The smell is strong, a mixture of homemade antiseptic Curie made a few days ago. She knows it’s going to hurt so she tries to prepare herself. It does hurt, she expects nothing less. She tells herself at least it is killing the bacteria so it is worth it.  
  
“You can curse if it hurts. I’m not gonna judge you for it. I do it plenty of times me self.” The words make Curie smile even though she’s still wincing.  
  
“It is fine ma-” she catches herself. “Cait. I expected it to hurt, but even so, I was not fully prepared for it.”  
  
“You’re never prepared for a deathclaw gash.” Now Cait smirks, a subtle laugh following.  
  
“You are correct about that. While I do want to explore and understand many things, I rather not be the test subject in these scenarios. Next time it would be as efficient to observe a wound on another person rather than experience it firsthand.” She can already see herself helping one of their companions, probably Strong, with such a wound.  
  
“Can’t say hoping someone else gets hurt is a good idea, but as long as it isn’t you. I don’t want you getting hurt even if that means bandaging you up getting to know you better.” Curie is starting to really enjoy these conversations with Cait, especially now that she has a synth body, the element of body language is no longer one sided.  
  
The conversation pretty much ends after that, Cait wrapping up the wound just tight enough. Curie compliments her, thanking her for doing this for her. After that, they return to Sanctuary to meet up with everyone for some dinner and late night ‘social interaction’ as Curie likes to call it.  
  
When most of the lights are dim in Sanctuary, and most people are heading to bed, there are still a few people awake. Preston is awake because he keeps watch until everyone goes to sleep. Deacon is probably pretending to either be asleep or awake, so Curie is never too sure. Hancock and Cait are usually the last to go to sleep.  
  
While she knows the purposes of sleeping biologically for humans, she finds the process still intriguing. She goes to sleep herself, but she knows it’s not the same as a human. She dreams, and while it’s not the same as a human, the process is similar in a way; brain activity just doesn’t shut down when a synth body is in sleep mode.  
  
Once she brought up the topic to Nora, but she just mentioned something about robots dreaming about electric sheep. On reflection, the statement is probably a joke she missed at the time.  
  
The last thing she remembers is falling asleep, thinking of that one joke. The next thing she knows, her chest feels tight and her eyes shoot open.  
  
“You’re fine. There’s no one here. I checked the place out top to bottom.” It’s dark, but she recognizes who it is just enough. “Your scream probably woke up half of Sanctuary, but they’ll get over it.” Cait is sitting on her bed right next to her.  
  
She sits up, Cait rubbing her right shoulder blade. “I screamed?”  
  
“Yeah, is that strange?” It’s moment like these that actually make her feel like she fits in as she learns things with a different perspective and body.  
  
“Well, I was in sleep mode.” She ponders this hypothesis, already trying to connect the dots.  
  
“You saying you were dreaming?” Dreaming, that word comes up again, and Curie can’t say she does dream, but something does happen while she’s in sleep mode.  
  
“Possibly. I should be able to retrieve what I dreamed about.” After all, if she accessed it once she should now be able to do it again.  
  
“Didn’t know you could dream because, _you know_ , synth stuff.” She’s not surprised to hear that, synths being quite mysterious as a whole to Cait and most people of the Commonwealth. It’s not like there are other synths like her that they see regularly (that she knows of).  
  
“While the process is not exactly the same, while I am in sleep mode, sometimes I process and access different parts of my memory and cerebral functions I normally do not exercise. This body still has lingering fragmented memories associated with it, ones that time to time manifest themselves during sleep mode.” Cait just looks at her so she pauses to find a better way to explain it. “I suppose the equivalent would be remembering something in one’s sleep when usually one can’t normally. A sense of déjà vu.”  
  
“You could have just said that.” Cait rolls her eyes, but Curie picks up the sarcasm in her voice.  
  
“I did, just more literally.” She doesn’t intend it to be a joke, but Cait gives her a light jab on the shoulder.  
  
“Smartass.” Whatever transpired that made her scream, it is long gone. Now they’re both smiling, sitting close to each other with only the moonlight and some dim lights from outside illuminating the area. “Don’t pick up too much of that from Nora.”  
  
The silence grows after that, but it’s not too long. Curie feels and seems a lot more comfortable than Cait whose eyes are darting to the corners of the room and the ceiling.  
  
“Now that the mystery’s solved, I’ll get going. I only need a few hours of sleep to keep me going.” Cait shifts, starting to get up, but instead of Curie saying anything, she grabs Cait’s arm.  
  
The words ‘don’t go’ are said in her mind, but she doesn’t verbalize it. Yet her expression must give it away as Cait stays put.  
  
“Scared the bad dreams are going to come again?” Cait’s tone is not of humor, but of concern.  
  
She’s heard fragments of conversations between her and Nora but feels she has not obtained the privilege to hear more even if she is curious and wants to know more. Yet why does she want to know more? Compassion? Empathy? Companionship?  
  
“Fine. I’ll stay the night, but if you go kicking in the bed and hogging the sheets, I’m leaving.” Curie makes room for her in the bed, Cait squirming next to her to get comfortable. “Can’t promise you won’t have another dream, but I’ll be there if you.”  
  
“Thank you, Cait.” She smiles as she closes her eyes, letting herself go into sleep mode.  
  
She might be wrong, but Curie swears she feels Cait press her lips against her forehead, but she doesn’t open her eyes or wake herself up; she just lives in the moment.


	24. Paper Doll (F!Lone Wanderer/Amata)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Whispered"

Amata has seen her leave the vault once before, and this will be the second time. The Wasteland has changed her girlfriend, but she doesn’t know if it’s for the better or worse. Amata does know her girlfriend holds that pistol much more comfortably than before and she shoots without hesitation now; she survives instead of lives now. She can’t help but feel the guilt in her chest, pressing down as she exhales. Amata just wishes somehow she could piece together the moments of them laughing together, hiding away in a forgotten place in the vault to share private kisses and intimate conversations.  
  
If she were braver, she’d walk out with the vault with her, but she’s a coward that just wants things to return to normal. She daydreams of the impossible instead, and the reality she needs to face right now is that someone she loves is leaving for good this time.  
  
She’s not asked by Amata to stay this time, instead she just stares into Amata’s eyes waiting for the goodbye they know is inevitable.  
  
Amata doesn’t get to say the word goodbye, taking too long. She’s staring at a back that’s walking away from her. She reaches out, grabbing her wrist because Amata doesn’t want her to go yet.  
  
She whispers words that are desperate, but she can’t recall the exact words of the plea. She remembers the tone, how it feels like part of her soul leaves her body as she says them.  
  
“I’m a hero and I need to leave.”  
  
Amata lets go.


	25. 给我一个吻/Give Me A Kiss (NSFW: F!Vault Dweller/F!Pat)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Nothing gives me the warm and fuzzies like a couple that's been together decades and still dotes on each other like they did when they were young. So this prompt is an excuse to write fic of your favorite couple in their advanced years! "

Pat’s hand over hers is warm, and the lullaby her wife is singing to Morlis to lull their child to sleep makes her nostalgic. Pat was one of the first people to come to Arroyo that wasn’t from Vault 13, and with her she brought skills and knowledge even the scientists Natalia knew from Vault 13 could not match. Natalia only knows that Pat comes from up north where a steel emperor rules with his dragons. She knows it’s a metaphor, probably. At least she hopes. Deathclaws kind of look like dragons and power armor is made from steel.  
  
Natalia hasn’t seen a deathclaw in decades, not that she wants to. She hasn’t been back to the Boneyard, the Hub, Shady Sands, or Junktown. She’s been too busy building Arroyo, and love has a side effect of grounding a person. So she’s stayed with Pat who’s helped her build Arroyo, and for that, she’s eternally grateful. She doesn’t say that out loud, though. Unless she drinks too much, then she’ll mutter it in Pat’s ear and kiss her neck.  
  
Morlis is asleep on Pat’s lap and their eldest child is still off adventuring. Natalia thinks her eldest daughter is so much like Pat, responsible and willing to take risks. Pat says she’s like Natalia, willing to lead and not let fear consume her. She thinks Morlis is too much like her when she was a young child, wanting to escape from the vault just for the sake of escaping and being free. Yet back then, she only had an idealized concept of freedom.  
  
“She’ll be back soon,” Pat reassures her, stroking Morlis’ head that’s in her lap.  
  
“I’m not worried.” Pat laughs at her response, and even after all these years, Natalia still keeps a few walls up. Yet with Pat, they come down a lot easier than with anyone else.  
  
“I am. Just a little. She wants to prove herself to you; she looks up to you so highly and doesn’t want to let you down.” Natalia knows this is true, but even well over a decade of being a mother, she hasn’t mastered parenting 101; Pat is far better than her, taking on the role so naturally.  
  
“She’s been listening to the others tell the exaggerated story of how Arroyo came to be, their fantasy version of me.” She laughs bitterly, looking down at the ground rather than at Pat. “Maybe it’s for the best. It’ll make her a better woman and leader than me.” The words are heavy and critical of herself, but she sounds like she’s listing off ingredients for a healing powder.  
  
“I think she sees the real you, the one you can’t see because past memories impair your vision now that you’ve aged, like cataracts.” Why is Pat always right? Or well, most of the time right. She doesn’t want to admit it, it’s the immature part of her. Yet this is why she loves Pat, why she agreed to marry her in the first place and build Arroyo together with her.  
  
“Stop being right all the time.” Natalia groans and Pat laughs at her because she’s most likely pouting as she speaks.  
  
“I’ll tuck Morlis into bed.” Pat grabs onto their youngest daughter, a sleepy grumble of gibberish, keeping a hold of her as she stands up. Morlis rests her head on Pat’s left shoulder. “I’ll be back out and we’ll wait until Miss Next Arroyo Elder comes back home.” Natalia just nods, still sitting on the porch of their house.  
  
The sun is almost done setting, and maybe she’ll finally admit she is getting a bit nervous. Many things could happen to a teenage girl in the Wasteland, and she’s younger than when Natalia left Vault 13.  
  
It’s so strange how she’s now a tribe’s elder and has a family. She never saw herself fully settling down, but there was a time she thought her and Katja would have a longer run at a relationship. Maybe if it weren’t for being shut out of Vault 13 like she was, she’d be with Katja somewhere, anywhere else but the Boneyard. Maybe she’d be living in Vault 13 with her, and they’d stick out like sore thumbs because they’ve been changed, tainted, by the outside Wasteland.  
  
Pat returns as Natalia stops staring off into the distance. She’s not exactly staring in order to see her daughter off in the distance, but more like staring because it’s a good focus point as her mind keeps jumping all over the place.  
  
Her wife sits next to her, closer this time than before. Pat kisses her, but it’s not unexpected. She holds her close, her arms wrapping around Natalia like a secure hug. She knows this is Pat reassuring her, telling her she knows something is swirling and agitated in that mind of hers.  
  
Natalia feels young again, in her twenties instead of her fifties, when she kisses Pat. She’s heard love causes chemicals in the brain to react a certain way so it must be that. She keeps kissing Pat as she goes to straddle her waist, but the kiss ends when she realizes she’s not as flexible as she used to be. Pat's hands fall to her waist, no longer holding her tightly.  
  
She pulls her top off and lets it fall to the side. Pat stares at her breasts for only a short time, mumbling what Natalia knows as ‘beautiful’ in Mandarin before she kisses Natalia’s sternum. Pat begins to massage her left breast and move her kisses down towards the other. Pat’s other hand slips down her pants and underwear, the tips of her fingers brushing against her. Natalia is impatient, wanting to feel Pat’s fingers inside her instead of brushing against; she is not patient, and she groans to tell Pat to hurry up. It’s only then she realizes her eldest daughter would and should be coming back soon, and she knows a moment like this is becoming less frequent. Outside sex under the stars was a thing they used to do when they were in their younger years, so maybe Pat is nostalgic in this very moment as well.  
  
Pat seems to get the message, sliding a single finger inside Natalia to start off with. Pat goes back to kissing Natalia on the lips, a moan slipping through right before Natalia returns it. Pat’s hand on her breast becomes more focused and not as gentle. Still, it’s not rough, but Natalia doesn’t care for gentle love making as much as Pat does.  
  
Another finger is put inside her and Pat’s thumb rubs her clit. The kiss between them is interrupted when that happens, but it doesn’t take long for them to pick up their previous rhythm. She feels her own breathing quicken, once in a while pressing against Pat’s chest. She feels lightheaded, and maybe this is what it’s like to fall in love all over again. It’s been over twenty-five years and Pat can do this to her.  
  
She gasps, feeling Pat’s fingers move even quicker and more concentrated than before. Memories of the first time they had sex under the night sky, how quiet it was but she didn’t feel alone. Natalia remembers Pat’s lovingly whispered words in her first language in her ear, and it took several weeks of an embarrassed Pat to finally tell her what she said. It was quite the confession, and ever since then, neither of them have looked back.  
  
It’s a mixture of the physical sensations and the emotional connection she feels that makes her feel so lost within herself and Pat. Yet she doesn’t feel confused, but a good sort of lost. She knows it doesn’t make sense, but she doesn’t care. Pat understands.  
  
Natalia shudders, wanting to hold onto her tightly, and so she does so. Her first orgasm comes and she her breathing stops. She digs her nails into Pat’s back, maybe a bit too roughly. Pat, on the other hand, seems so stable, calm and focused.  
  
As she tries to catch her breath, knowing she won’t sound coherent but doesn’t care, she makes a demand. “No more fingers.” She moves one of her hands down Pat’s body, feeling her much more clothed than she is. Pat removes her fingers, and the anticipation is building up. She watches her wife lick the fingers that were previously inside her.  
  
Yet something else happens instead.  
  
“Not now.” Pat laughs and kisses her on the forehead. “It is almost night and she will be back by then for certain.”  
  
“Fu-” She doesn’t finish her cursing as Pat gives her a peck.  
  
“We’ll continue this later. I promise.” Natalia has never been the most patient, that’s Pat’s thing. Still, that was quite the buildup, and for it to end so suddenly, she wonders if she’s being teased. No, she knows she is. Pat’s taking her time, enjoying their time together. Natalia has always been focused on how many days are left, maybe because of the water chip.  
  
How many more days will they have together? Who will pass first?  
  
Natalia barely gets her top back on when she hears footsteps and heavy breathing. She turns around, seeing the silhouette of her eldest daughter with a thin strip of the sunset still remaining on the landscape.  
  
“So that’s what took you so long.” Pat stands up and greets their daughter, grabbing onto the gecko pelts.  
  
“There was a golden gecko, but I had to wait until the sun was starting to set so it would be slower than me.” Natalia gives a smirk and a nod of approval.  
  
“You outsmarted it, good.” She walks towards her daughter, running a hand through her hair. She remembers Pat telling her how badly her daughter wanted her approval, compliments like these. “You learn and apply things well.” She sees her daughter blush, and that smirk from before turns into a smile.  
  
“And these gecko pelts were skinned well. I can’t believe I only taught you how a few months ago.” Pat hangs the pelts on a rack in front of their house, not too far away from them. Natalia knows she’s watching the exchange between them. “The traders will pay a high price for them.”  
  
“Go clean up. You may be my daughter, but gecko guts and blood aren’t things I like smelling.” It’s true, but her tone of voice shows the comment is out of care rather than being spiteful.  
  
“Right. I’ll clean up in the pond before it gets too dark. I promise.” She’s so determined and focused like Pat, but a skilled fighter and tactician like her.  
  
“Take your time. I mean it. No gecko guts or blood in your hair or under your nails.” This may sound like motherly advice, but she has multiple agendas.  
  
Their eldest is off running away, quicker than a gecko chasing a giant ant. Natalia looks at Pat, crossing her arms over her chest.  
  
“We have twenty minutes, and you better keep your promise.” Time may change some things for them, even her family, but the way she looks at Pat and loves her, that’s a constant.


	26. If I Knew You Were Coming I’d’ve Baked A Cake (NSFW: M!Courier/Colonel Hsu)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So your OTP have started seeing each other in secret (cross faction romance, keeping it on the DL, both very private, etc etc etc) and, like all great romances, wa t to give each other a token of their affection to carry in secret and remind the, of each other even when they're apart. Courtly romance in the wastes, basically!"

Colonel James Hsu doesn’t leave his office often, work and security often keeping him almost glued to his desk. While it has been easier for him lately, thanks to a certain someone’s help, the tension between the Legion and the NCR is getting worse. Yet there is another threat, ones the higher ups have kept hush-hush about from the common foot soldiers. Robert House is making his move, becoming more brazen with his displays of power and making the NCR bend its knee repeatedly.

Suspicious packages appear once in awhile in his office, plenty of them being bombs or poison attempts by the Legion. Yet this time, when he sees a slightly rather eccentric looking two headed stuffed teddy bear, he knows this mysterious package isn’t a bomb or a threat. In fact, he knows exactly who sent it, letting it purposely slide through security so it could be placed in his office. Whether or not the perpetrator knows Hsu would let the teddy bear pass or not is another thing – is this another display of power? That House does not fear the NCR? That he can exploit and manipulate the Great Bear?

Hsu picks up the two headed teddy bear off his desk, reminding him of the ones they sell back in Shady Sands. He pulls off the shirt the bear is wearing (a white shirt, red NCR letters in the center) meeting some resistance due to the toy’s two heads. He knows this bear is much heavier than the ones he’s given to his niece and nephews in the past. There’s something inside, and he’s not sure what it could be.

Maybe it is a bomb and he’s being played.

Yet as soon as he uses his pocket knife to cut the toy open, Tops casino chips spill out, clanking as they hit the office floor. Yet one chip stands out, different from the rest in color and material – it reads Lucky 38. There’s more inside the toy, feeling a piece of paper. He sets the toy aside, putting down the piece of paper with it for now. As he picks up the chips that have fallen to the ground, he wonders how long this will continue. While he knows who sent him this right when he saw the teddy bear on his desk, now that’s it’s confirmed, it’s something he has to think about and face head on.

The man who gave him this package has been marked as an enemy to NCR, a terrorist who is wanted dead more than alive.

This man is his lover, and he is the infamous Courier Six working for Robert E. House, previously the Mojave Express.

Their romance started off rather simple, but Hsu’s position and NCR policies specific to the Mojave made them keep it a highly guarded secret. It all started with a simple meeting about bounties and helping around McCarran. Six did great things for the NCR in the beginning. Six helped around, got friendly with people, and Hsu let his guard down just enough for Six to wiggle into his life. Six caught a book on his desk, written in Chinese, and the two of them were finally able to have a casual conversation not about the NCR, the Mojave, and work in general.

Hsu gave Six a key to a safe house, part of him wanting the courier to become a familiar face and ally. At the time it looked like Six would soon be a person the NCR could count on, someone he could count on, yet that never fully actualized. Hsu didn’t know it at the time, so when Six rather openly flirted with him, asking Hsu to come with him to ‘show him’ the safe house, he did so. He told Six to come back in a few days and he would have a few hours of downtime then.

He should have said no that day, that a courier is an expert at finding places and trekking around the Wasteland. Yet there’s something about Six, something he’s come to love and crave about him.

That day at the safe house, he still remembers the feel of their first kiss. He remembers as soon as the door closes, Six is kissing him, hands grasping on his sandy covered uniform. He remembers how he’s glad Six makes the first move, how very few words are exchanged as clothing becomes littered on the safe house floor.

Things were easier back then, before Six got himself labeled a terrorist by the NCR. Hsu has been grappling with guilt, about his duty and obligation towards the NCR. He’s been told by plenty, even those in top ranking command, that he should have been made general. Hsu could be bitter about it, but he’s too busy doing his job to complain about rank, pay, and a better office.

Hsu finally opens the piece of paper, seeing a familiar Chinese character, 熊, one that has become important to him. The character has turned into a term of endearment in their letters, its meaning being bear, which fits his allegiance. Six’s number may be tied to good luck and prosperity in Chinese, but Hsu knows their relationship doesn’t fit such a thing. Hsu is a little less creative with his nickname for Six, sticking with the literal character of six (六). No many people in the NCR, not to mention the Mojave, can understand these characters or have the resources to (so he tells himself).

The letter is written in a very Six fashion, with a joke to start off as he apologizes for not being able to deliver the gift in person or meet with him. There’s a specific date, time, location, and even details on what Hsu should wear (wear that grey suit, that one looks good and is easier to take off.) and further instruction on how they’ll meet (sit at the slot machine with NCR carved on the side.), even telling Hsu not to be afraid of the securitron that will eventually approach him, asking him for that Lucky 38 chip.

All of this for a brief few hours together may sound like a lot of effort, but it’s mostly for Hsu. Six once said if Hsu were a slacker and bad at his job, it would make sneaking off easier. He replied with McCarran would probably be overrun by Fiends by now if that were the case. Yet it’s true, but he’s already sacrificing duty enough just by simply letting Six live.

He’s asked Six if House knows about them and his opinion on such. Six told him House knew and he didn’t mind as long as it didn’t get in the way of his plans. Yet Hsu could get in the way, shut down House’s operations with a few simple orders or possibly even a single gunshot.

Hsu wants to keep the letter, just like all the others, but he can’t. He burns the letter with a lighter, one Six gave him, its previous owner now dead. He wonders if the lighter is meant to be a reminder, that people that attempt to kill Six end up dead, or maybe it’s simply a reminder of the Strip, of Six.

Hsu wears that gray suit, just like Six asked him to (it’s not like he has many others to pick from). He follows the instructions, sitting at some slot machine at the Tops casino, spending those chips he was given earlier. He doesn’t find pulling a lever and hoping things match up particularly fun, but he’s been told it’s supposed to lead to a surge of adrenaline and excitement. Yet he’s clouded with too many doubts and worries, knowing even the most careful of people sometimes run out of luck are caught.

It’s possibly a sign that he’s taking his feelings and his relationship with Six a lot more seriously than he previously did. If they were both in California, they could make things work. Relationships in general are more accepted there, but out in the Mojave, the NCR uses an entirely different rule book that’s much more rigid. Well, minus that whole being a public enemy and working for House. Even in California that would prove to be a difficulty.

When a securitron approaches him, asking him to show his Strip passport, he shows the robot the Lucky 38 chip instead, flashing it briefly before sliding the chip back into a pocket. The securitron orders him to follow and he does so. He’s done this before, but there’s still a worry this is a trap. People who gain power quickly can also let it quickly get to their heads. He’s been one of the more humble colonels, so he’s been told, and he can’t disagree. He’s seen people within the ranks make power grabs for selfish gains.

Six could tire of him, say one final goodbye, and give him a clean death. Or there’s the alternative of Six ending up dead by NCR forces, but hopefully not by his hands. Hsu thinks the latter is most likely his fate, and the aftermath is something he’s tried his best not to think about. He doesn’t need to think on what happens, he knows.

Yet things seem normal so far, Hsu entering the presidential suite without a hiccup. The securitron that was guiding him closes the door behind him, a single robotic goodbye is the last thing Hsu hears from the robot.

He hears footsteps, and looking up, he sees Six walking down the steps, wearing something the Brotherhood would kill a person for. He doesn’t realize he’s starting to smile all the while thinking why on Earth would Six be wearing some sort of stealth armor. Hsu also notes he looks cleaned up, clean shaven, and doesn’t look like he has a single bit of Wasteland on him.

“You’re smiling, good.” Is the first thing he says to Hsu, laughing and looking like there isn’t a care in the world and the Mojave isn’t going to collapse on them any second now. “I was preparing myself for a disappointed look.”

Hsu stops smiling, forcing himself not to as he had no idea he was doing such a thing. “Like that. I guess I spoke too soon.” Six approaches him, and instead of the intended chaste kiss on the lips, Hsu turns his head away, so Six kisses his cheek. “James-”

“What are you wearing?” It’s said with a bluntness he knows Six can’t ignore or simply kiss or touch away. “Did House give it to you?”

Six takes a step back, and like Hsu assumes, he tries to diffuse the situation. “Shouldn’t you be asking why I’m not taking it off? Or why it talks, but I think she’s being shy right now.”

“She,” he needs a few more seconds to fully absorb what he’s just heard. “I’m-”

“It’s a long story, but you just need to know it’s some Old World tech from some eerie pre-war time capsule of a laboratory.” Hsu wonders if something about the other man keeps being drawn to relics of the Old World. There’s House firstly, and then there’s that old world death trap of a casino he briefly mentioned a few times before. “And before I forget.” Six pulls out something from a pouch, pressing the object into his right palm. “A souvenir, like always.” Hsu opens his palm up, temporarily dropping the topic to see what Six has gotten him.

It seems every time they meet up these days, Six always gets him a present. They’re usually small tokens, trinkets that really don’t have a purpose outside mementos tied to a place or thing they can’t talk about due to their allegiances. Maybe it’s a way of Six trying to open up to him, not being too secretive when talking about work is now a taboo subject.

Hsu looks at what’s in his palm, but he has no idea what it is. It’s circular, with a blue center, and before he can ask, Six starts speaking again. “Push down on it.”

He does so, hearing a click. After that, Hsu realizes what it is. “It’s a hologram, old pre-war tech stuff. I found a lab, some instructions, and chewed up five too many mentats.” The little blue hologram is of a two headed bear walking in place, looking like it’s growling at something.

Hsu runs his other hand through the hologram, still mystified by it. He’s heard of holograms, but never expected to see one like this or one used this way.

“Always with the bears,” Hsu smiles, a subdued laugh. “Thank you.” He slides the hologram projector into his pocket, leaning into kiss Six on the lips to back up his words.

He is thankful for the gift, and somehow they do make things between them a bit easier. He knows their time apart, their meetings, have become shorter and rarer. He knows it’s not entirely his fault nor Six’s, but playing the blame game is too tiring and not worth it.

“It’s a shame you can’t wear that uniform of yours with all those fancy medals.” Six whispers into his ear, feeling his tie being undone by the other man.

As they undress each other, Hsu is much more reserved, but not hesitant. Maybe he over thinks it all, so his movements are more rigid. Or maybe it’s simply compared to Six, the personification of the Strip, he simply can’t compare to that amount of sex appeal and debauchery. Simply removing clothing feels like it’s a game of sorts, a piece of clothing getting stripped between kisses and their bodies grinding together.

Six still has that armor suit on him, but Hsu has managed to peel off most of it, Six’s navel being the cut off. He can’t see Six’s half naked body, but his hands can feel it, making a map like image, like radar. Yet the spell is broken when Hsu’s palm runs over scar lines, large ones, ones that were never there before. He tries to pull away, but Six pulls him into a kiss, as if he knows he’s been found out.

He struggles, breaking the kiss and pulling away. He finally sees what his hands have been feeling, large scar marks that now he knows for certain weren’t there before.

“Did House do this to you?” Is the first thing he thinks of, because it’s easy to assume House did this. He keeps himself composed, his voice only slightly raised and showing stern concern rather than anger.

“What? No, he’s not like that.” Hsu catches that brief moment of confusion. “Not mad scientist enough.” It’s like Six expects things to get better by him swearing House didn’t do this, but it raises more flags. “He doesn’t care much for human anatomy.” He catches the double implication of that.

He can’t entirely dismiss House isn’t involved in some way, but starting a fight might not be worth it – no, he knows it won’t be worth it. It would just end with him getting information that could be seen as vital to the NCR as a way to take down House and Six; he rather never know than know and not tell. If he doesn’t know, at least he feels like he isn’t betraying the NCR directly. Preventing himself from knowing isn’t much better, but it’s slightly better.

“James, I’m fine. If you really dislike 'em, I’ll get an auto-doc to fix them soon.” Six goes back to kissing his neck, sort of, as it’s more like he’s feeling the exposed skin with his mouth. Couriers follow routes, and he wonders if Six is going back to old habits.

Right before he mutters concern, it’s like Six can feel his pulse speeding up, as he whispers something in his ear. “This suit really does peel off so nicely.”

Those are the last words they speak to each other for a while, Six taking his hand and leading him into the bedroom. The room doesn’t smell like Six, but of another owner who he knows is long dead and gone. There could be a metaphor here lying in wait for him, something ironic he’ll dwell on in the future.

He’s pushed on the bed, forced to lie down, Six smirking as he seems to enjoy the reaction. He hovers over Hsu, almost like he’s gloating that he has him in this position. He’s not fond of arrogance, but this is something else. He can’t see how he looks, but he has a feeling due to his own growing needs that his loneliness and yearning for Six are obvious.

Six is no good at apologies with words, but he apologizes with his mouth and tongue. Six starts slow with Hsu’s half erect cock in his mouth, a few fingers pumping the base. Hsu can’t see what Six is doing, every attempt to sit up slightly has Six pushing him back down. So it’s a guessing game, and he should be used to this because everything about him is a guessing game. He’s frustrating, but it’s hard to stay frustrated with someone when your cock is in their mouth (Six must know that).

When he’s fully erect, Six frees his mouth, giving his cock one last lick on the side as if he’s doing it for good luck.

“You’re still tense,” Six looks at Hsu’s hands which are clutching the bed sheets. “I’ve got my work cut out for me.” And like Six fashion, he sees it as a challenge. “Not that I mind.”

Their foreplay is drawn out, Hsu tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want things to end. Who knows when the next time they’ll be able to see each other? Honestly, he would be perfectly content with just meeting up and just being around Six, no sex involved.

Maybe Six knows, and that’s why they’re taking things slow (slow for Six, anyway).

Thinking of Six being gentle isn’t a good description, but he sort of is as he preps Hsu, two fingers working inside him and a few kisses, laughs, and exchanged words. There are no 'I love you’s or romantic sentiments, but he can feel the care Six is taking with him, not rushing and fucking for fucking’s sake. This isn’t a labored chore, just going through the motions because it’s a routine. Six doesn’t whisper impossible promises that Hsu knows would appease him only briefly.

This is why Hsu hasn’t given up on Six yet, or well, hasn’t ended this. Even if the man is frustrating and cryptic, he’s no liar, at least not to him. He may trick and manipulative things in his favor, but he doesn’t lie to Hsu.

Six mutters 'bear’ into his ear as he pulls his fingers out. He’s prepped enough, and he can hear Six fiddling with a jimmy hat and lube. The build up to this all makes him anxious, and he’s already thinking about all this ending before they’re halfway done for the night. It’s like him, to think of the future.

Thankfully Six is the type to drag him back into the present, maybe a bit into the Old World. Six kisses him, an outlet to get that last minute anxiety and tension out. He feels Six pushing inside him, a slow burn as he stretches out.

When he’s fully inside him, he stops moving, looking down at Hsu. Six smiles at him, a sincere sort of smile that the Mojave isn’t allowed to see. Maybe Hsu smiles back with a smile the NCR nor the Mojave is allowed to see, too.

That brief moment of tenderness and unprotected emotion ends when Six starts moving. Six's thrusts are steady, but the pace starts to quicken. Six’s attempt at jerking him off isn’t as steady, but he knows that’s on purpose – a contrast. He can’t tell if Six is moaning 'bear’ under his breath or his mind is echoing the words. Either way, Hsu’s fully encompassed in this moment. There isn’t some war out there, they aren’t on opposite factions, and the Hoover Dam is simply on a Pre-War postcard.

They used to have more time after sex, what some would call pillow talk. Now it’s much shorter, Six only smoking a cigarette or two and telling a few jokes before he kisses him goodbye.

Hsu wants to start a conversation with him, even if the silence isn’t awkward or painful. He just wants to spend more time and get to know him better. “You have a friend in the Brotherhood of Steel, don’t you?”

Six doesn’t respond right away, doesn’t even look at him. That’s when he realizes he’s made a mistake because he remembers the report that the Brotherhood of Steel bunker had been destroyed. They didn’t do it, and sure as hell the Legion didn’t, so it only leaves one option.

“Had.” A single word that could be interpreted in so many ways. Is his friend dead? Did Six convince them to leave the Brotherhood of Steel? Or maybe they simply aren’t friends anymore after what happened. Either way, just the thought that Six could have killed a friend of his does not settle well with him. “And I’m sure you’ve heard reports Caesar is dead.” Six finally looks at him, somewhat gloating. “House wasn’t happy, but I’m sure it helps you.”

He wants to ask if Six did it for him as he’s not foolish enough to believe he did it for the NCR. “If the evidence shows that, I’m sure we could work out immunity for you if you pledge yourself to the Republic and-” Six shakes his head and puts out his cigarette. “We know how this will end.” His voice can’t hide how sad he is as images flood his mind of what will happen.

“I think we both know how it’ll end, but we have different interpretations.” Six sitting beside him on the bed should feel more intimate, but there’s such an emotional distance between them, an unbreakable barrier he can’t get through. “What would you like, James? The two of us settled in Shady Sands? Returning from our honeymoon in San Francisco?” It’s a bitter laugh instead of one of amusement. “I guess that does sound nice now that I think about it.”

He’s going to say something, but Six speaks again. “You’re better with Chinese characters than I am.” He can’t agree or disagree because he isn’t sure. “What happens when you write the character for bear twice?” It only takes Hsu a few seconds to figure out the answer to his question.

He looks at the ashtray that Six put out his cigarette with, and suddenly feeling like the embers from it will suddenly ignite again. “I knew you’d be able to figure it out.” Six leans over, kissing his forehead before he leaves the room, leaving him alone.

A week later he receives an envelope with a ‘熊’ on it. There’s only a single sentence, but it’s entirely in Chinese. He notices the 熊 熊  that Six talked about the last time they met face to face.

 _Better a little fire to warm us than a great one to burn us._    


	27. Sitting on Top of the World (M!Chosen One/Goris)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> M!Chosen One/Goris in San Fransisco.

He probably needs five mentats to fully understand Goris, but listening to him is soothing in a way. He never understood half of what Hakunin said to him, and even if Goris talks differently and about vastly different topics, there’s something about it. It feels like it’s helping the Jet antidote work quicker, and Myron swore to him he’d be fine by the morning. He can’t trust that cowardly pathetic pig rat worth shit, but even Myron acknowledges his life depends on Narg in the upcoming days.

He leans against Goris whose hood is only slightly down, enough to reveal his face but not his entire head. Deathclaws aren’t the most comfortable to lean against and their bodies aren’t that warm. Fuck it, though, he isn’t moving tonight unless the Enclave’s oil rig crashes ashore right in front of him.

“Narg?” The flow of speech stops, interrupted when Goris says his name.

“Huh? What?” He sounds more annoyed than he is, but it’s probably due to him finally starting to relax.

“Should I continue? You seem preoccupied, lost in your thoughts.” Does he really look like that? Usually he just looks like he’s got something mischievous planned. Rarely is he ever actually contemplative.

“I’m not thinking of anything important.” Talking about what he’s thinking about isn’t going to help anyone, and he doesn’t want to discuss it.

“On the contrary, I think you are. I could listen, if you prefer, or be silent.” Narg knows Goris’ offer is out of respect and friendship than trying to get into his business. That still doesn’t mean he’s not going to resist..

“If you’re silent, I’ll be able to hear Cassidy’s and Vic’s drunken singing.” Narg glances over to where Vic and Cassidy are, Sulik somehow looking not bothered at all by Cassidy using him to stand up straight and the singing. That’s Sulik, not him, and the other tribal was much better at being patient than him.

“And you don’t want that, I assume, you haven’t before.” Goris does this sometimes, the way he speaks reminds him how he’s analyzing how humans behave and act.

“Yeah, no shit, it’s fucking awful.” He’s not much of a singer himself, but at least when he’s drunk he doesn’t sing. “Fucking terrible…” Those last words he mumbles to himself to emphasize his annoyance.

“Yet a comfort as you haven’t told them to stop.” Comfort? He has no idea what Goris is talking about

“Don’t make me out as some sentimental sap.” It’s a sharp reply back, strong and definite.

“You said it, not me.” He doesn’t want to reply to that, so he just rubs his face against Goris’ robe, burying it as he groans. “A non-verbal response; we deathclaws do something similar when we are in distress.” Narg turns his head back towards him, eyes narrowing as he thinks he’s being teased.

“I just don’t want to talk about it.” He might be sounding like a little kid. “I rather punch some guy out.” Or a violent little kid.  

“Yet another very deathclaw response.” Now he’s certain Goris is messing with him, possibly prodding to see his reaction. He doesn’t like it, being thought of some puzzle to understand.

“You make it sound like you’ve thought about me being one.” Narg starts thinking about what he would be like. He pictures something along the lines of an alpha deathclaw with massive claws and extremely sharp teeth. If he’s going to be a deathclaw, he’s going to be a badass one with a massive pack and harem.

“I have a few times, letting my mind wander in that direction as I compare human behavior to ours.” Goris has asked Narg plenty of questions, not due to doubt, but curiosity and understanding. “But I like you as you are, as a human companion on our shared journey. I pursue understanding and knowledge, you pursue to save your people which I regard highly. I would not be satisfied with anything else.” While Narg loves compliments and his ego boosted, this is different. He’s not sure how to respond because it is a lot more personal, and he’s not good with personal.

“Ha, satisfied.” His uncomfortable state makes him feel the need to change the topic, which often ends up being inappropriate jokes or distracting highly charged statements.

“You are amused with that word choice?” Narg’s immature antics clashes with Goris’ earnest desire to learn and understand.

“Well it reminds me of sex,” this is his distractor. “Then I’m reminded there’s a big chance we’ll die once we reach the Enclave’s base; Navarro was a shitfest after I got busted.” He’s never had to run so fast in his life, and running in power armor made things more difficult. “And the last time I got any was in New Reno. I should’ve looked for something, someone, around here instead of sitting on a beach with you all. A beach that smells like gecko guts that have been rotting in the sun for at least a day.” He’s totally not whining, only he totally is and he sounds like a twelve-year-old who lost their Cat’s Paw magazine.

“So you are feeling frustration and regret?” There Goris goes, trying to understand how he feels when he doesn’t even want to think about how he feels let alone talk about them. “Is that what you were thinking about earlier?”

“Frustration, yeah. I don’t know about regret because this might be the last time we’re all together like this. It would have been smarter of me to get a proper send off, but here we are, sitting around a massive bonfire, being forced to hear Cassidy’s and Vic’s fucking awful drunken singing.” He tries to play it off, giving enough information that Goris might be satisfied with the response and drop this line of questioning.

“Is that what you were thinking about, this being possibly our last time all together before our possible deaths?” It backfires because this question is ever more personal than the others.

“You know, if I had to fuck a deathclaw, I’d pick you.” Nothing like sex and crude comments to derail a discussion he doesn’t want to continue. “Not sure how it’d work, because _you know_ , I haven’t fucked a deathclaw. I guess it’d be jerking off? But your claws, I’ve avoided sharp objects around that area all my life, which hasn’t been easy since we used spears as our main weapon in Arroyo.” He pauses, looking to see if his derailment and tangent worked. “What? You’re speechless this time?”

“The topic of the subject change was… not expected, but I expected a topic change due to your past behavior of not wanting to talk about your feelings.” It seems to be working as Goris sounds hesitant and he’s more on the defensive now.

 “If you were human, I’d definitely would have tried.” It feels good now that he’s the one in control of the conversation. “Wait, you wouldn’t be able to resist me, and I’d give you several lessons you’d never forget.” Gloating would be an understatement at what he’s doing right now.

“You have thought of me as a human?” That one question turns the tables once again, Narg not expecting it.

“Well, _yeah_. I even thought of Skynet as a human once and how’d that whole shebang would go down.” It went down awkwardly and with a lot of commands in his head. “Not the dogs, I’m not that much of a twisted pervert.” His face contorts indisgust. “And not Myron, holy shit, that’s another level of fucked up.” He spits at the ground, his face looking like he took a bite out of rotten mole rat.  

“And the others?”

“I hate where my mind goes sometimes, and it went there more than once. I blame mentats; it makes me think too much weird shit all at once and I can’t control it.” He’s fine with talking about sex and doesn’t consider it much of an intimate thing, but feelings? No thanks.

 “So would you prefer me as human?” Is that uncertainty in Goris’ voice? Almost like he’s being careful with how he says the question.

“What kind of question is that?” He’s caught off guard by that question, never thinking Goris would ask a question like that.

“One you asked me in a similar manner not that long ago.” A reminder that Goris did answer his question.

“Fine, fine.” He usually doesn’t give two shits about things being fair unless it puts him at a disadvantage. “No, you’re better as a deathclaw. You kill a lot more being a deathclaw than being some scrawny scholar.”

“I was speaking in terms of a companion, like how I responded to your question.” Narg doesn’t realize at first that’s what Goris meant, thinking more along the lines of fighting and being useful in battle.

“I already got one nerd lord in our group and I wouldn’t need another.” Myron takes that niche spot, and he’s not a part of the group because he knows how to play something called Dungeons and Dragons.

“You have multiple dogs.” He has three, two being cyberdogs. K-9 can talk, so he’s not like a normal dog.

“They’re _dogs_ , totally different.” He’s sounding more defensive the more Goris tries to frame their conversation.

“How is it different? The dogs should have a similar hierarchical place within our group due to similar abilities and skills. Our group is heterogenous and thrives on a variety of skills and abilities to compensate for what the other lacks. Deathclaws thrive in homogenous groups due our hierarchical structure and refining our skills to better future generations. That is what I have observed, so correct me if I am wrong.” It sounds so academic and impersonal, something one of those snobby assholes in Vault City talk like when they try to show off. He knows Goris isn’t doing it to show off, but Narg can’t figure his motive out.  

“Going to be honest here, I understood less than half of that.” Something about balancing each other out and how things are different between their group and deathclaw packs. “If you’re trying to make me say if I like you as a per-, _companion_ , there’s a reason why I’m sitting here with you when we might all die soon. I could’ve picked any of these assholes, but I didn’t.” Emotional bullshit is embarrassing and he dreads even indirectly talking about. “Don’t make me say more than that.” He stares down at the sand beneath them, not wanting Goris to see the look in his eyes.

“I understand now. Thank you for responding in that manner. I know it’s not how you usually like to explain things.” At least Goris appreciates his act of kindness, and he isn’t the type to endlessly tease him about it.

“Yeah, but you needed it. I’ll deal with it just this once.” Who knows what will happen soon, but it could be death.  “So anyway, how would I, not so hypothetically, fuck a deathclaw? Use that smarty pants brain of yours to figure it out.” The conversation becomes too touchy-feely so recycling this tactic feels like a good idea.

“I have to give it more thought.” Narg expects a slower response, but it’s rather prompt.

“You mean you haven’t-” He replays what Goris just said. “Wait, wait. You said _more thought_. That means you’ve thought about it before.” He acts like he’s made a great breakthrough or uncovered a stash of pre-war tech. “Was it with me? Of course it was me, I knew it! You have good taste in humans by the way.” Goris pulls down his hood so his face is covered. “Now who’s turn is it to do that whole non-verbal response thing?” That’s a win for him.

“It was instinctual rather than thought out.” Narg can only assume Goris is embarrassed at being called out.

“Ha, I made you embarrassed. An embarrassed deathclaw! The things I’ve seen and done during this epic journey of mine.” Most would find this sort of gloating nauseating, but there’s some charm to it when Narg does it.

“After this journey of yours, if you survive and save your tribe, what will you do next?” He doesn’t drop his hood entirely, but Narg can see some facial features and his eyes again.

“Another journey, I guess. Gotta find a new place settle everyone down in.” He’s really not sure as thinking about it is uncomfortable. Arroyo is destroyed and they have nothing to go back to.

“And I know most of your tribe would not be comfortable around a deathclaw.”

“Probably not. I’d tell them to deal with it, though.” Narg jabs lightly at one of Goris’ shoulders, being playful while his words are true.

“Are you offering me the opportunity to continue traveling with you?” Why does Goris do this to him?

“You know for a big brain, you sure keep asking questions about the obvious.”

“I was just making sure. I don’t want to be presumptuous.”

“This is still all hinging on if we make it out. I’d like to think we can easily, but after Navarro-” Goris must pick up that his tone of voice has changed, the words are ragged and not something free flowing.  

“I will do whatever I can to help your people return safely to the mainland. I understand your concern for them and how much they mean to you.” Narg doesn’t ask for those words from Goris, but it feels like a relief to hear them. He doesn’t want to seem weak and ask for reassurance, but he really does need it. He’s lost so much in such a quick span of time, and he’s not sure how his tribe and mother are doing. For all he knows, it’s too late and they’re all dead.

“Just don’t go out of your way to be a martyr, got it? I know deathclaws aren’t easy to kill, and you take a beating like a champ, but…” He’s trying to find a way to say he cares without saying he cares. “Just try not to die. I don’t think I’ll find another deathclaw like you again.” He’s trying to tell Goris he doesn’t want him dead because he cares about him more than he’d ever admit to.

“An intelligent deathclaw? There is Xarn, but I do not know where he has traveled to after his escape from Navarro.”

“No, you being all _you_ like. Don’t you get it?” His embarrassment and not being used to conveying his feelings in this manner make him sound annoyed and frustrated with him.

“I think I understand.” Goris doesn’t take it negatively, most likely picking up how Narg really feels and why he responds this way. “I will try my best not to die unless absolutely necessary.”

“You better.”  Miles away off the shore, waves crash against an oil rig.  


	28. Hushabye (Glory/Curie)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quick warm up-ish Glory/Curie drabble with background Glory/G5-19

In the corner of the Railroad’s headquarters, Glory watches Nate talk to Tinker Tom. Nate’s telling Tinker Tom about some war story that’s centuries old, something about how Nate would translate coded messages. Her eyes go around the room, trying to avoid a familiar face but foreign person. That’s not so easy, though. She doesn’t feel the same presence G5-19 brought into a room, and the voice and body language are nowhere similar.  
  
Still, staring at Curie brings up old thoughts and feelings she’s buried deep. She doesn’t want to erase these memories and feelings though. They are the few fragments of what she has left of G5-19. It’s a level of desperation that even a form of pain is better than nothing at all.  
  
Curie’s probably aware of Glory’s distance, as she’s only given Glory short greetings and smiles of acknowledgment. With everyone else, Curie’s far more social and inquisitive. Glory knows Desdemona has noticed, but she’s not the type to get involved unless it compromises work. Glory was private about her feelings and relationship with G5-19, she still is. Maybe she’s so secretive because she is protective of what she has left of her.  
  
Nate’s off with Deacon to help Tinker Tom’s next task. She’s noticed something different about Deacon, and it’s not something he’s purposely changed. Or maybe it is. That bastard is hard to read because he comes up with his own language. Curie remains behind, assisting Carrington with a new prototype.  
  
She lets her guard down, staring far too much at Curie. Glory knows she’s a different person; she could never confuse them even for the briefest second. Once in a while her mind drifts, wondering how G5-19 would react to how things turned out. She knows G5-19 would have urged Glory in her decision about letting Curie use her body, not wanting her to hesitate. She doesn’t feel guilty about her decision, but wanting that reassurance to be real is another matter.  
  
Curie sees her staring, her possible glaring. She notices how Curie looks indirectly at her face and then looks down. That means they both must be feeling the tension between them. Glory’s fully aware she’s creating the tension, but Curie’s not exactly helping. What surprises her is that Curie eventually looks her in the eyes, warm and friendly, a smile on her face.  
  
After that, Glory goes to fix some weaponry, knowing she could be spending her time in a much more productive fashion.


End file.
